ALL I EVER WANTED 12

THE MEGUMI STORIES
BY MEGUMI KATO AND FRIENDS

VOLUME 02: ALL I EVER WANTED
BY MEGUMI KATO AND SAMANTHA WEST

CHAPTER XII

Homecoming

It was about one o'clock when the party began to break 
up. One of my lovers kindly offered me a ride back to 
Shibuya, which at that time of night saved me the 
trouble of standing for what could be a long time at 
the nearest crossroads, trying to attract choosy 
taxi-drivers with sign-language indicating that I 
would pay two or three times the official fare. While 
he was finding his clothes I went to say good-bye to 
Lloyd. 

"It was a lovely party," I said; "thank you, and 
please invite me again soon." 

"Of course," he said; "and thank _you_ for looking 
after that little girl who was so lost." 

"You mean Emi?" 

"Is that her name? Such a shame, and at her first 
party too. I asked a couple of boys to go over and 
give her some fun. But by the time they got there you 
had taken over." 

"They gave her plenty of fun, once I'd shown her a few 
things. How to make herself desirable, you know ..." 

"Well, thanks anyway." 

"Not at all, a pleasure. But you're inviting them a 
bit young these days, aren't you?" 

"How old did she say she was?" 

"She _said_ seventeen; but I'd've thought hardly a day 
over sixteen - if that. Now you _will_ be careful, 
Roido-san, won't you?" I said earnestly, taking him by 
the arm. "If the authorities find out you're offering 
underage girls to your friends for sex, they could 
deport you." 

"D'you really think so?" 

"Yes, I do think so. And we can't afford to lose you, 
or your parties. How did Emi come to be here tonight?" 

"Well, he -" he looked round the room as if expecting 
to spot someone or other, then turned back to me 
"- somebody brought a girl who's still in her final 
year at high school ... I think he met her through one 
of those dating agencies ... and she brought her 
younger sister, three years younger I think, who was 
as keen as anything to find out what big sister was 
getting up to at those mysterious parties she'd kept 
on hearing about ... and _she_ brought a few friends 
from her class, and ..." 

"And so," I concluded, having had time to do the 
arithmetic, "there are fifteen-year-old girls here, or 
even younger. Oh, Lloyd, _do_ be careful." 

"Well," he said, a bit defensively I thought, "I don't 
check their ages as they come through the door. If a 
girl _looks_ old enough to be fucked, and behaves as 
if she _wants_ to be fucked, then I believe she 
_should_ be fucked - don't you?" 

"Yes, of course," I said. "A girl always knows when 
she's ready. And we're ready younger and younger these 
days, whatever the law may say." 

"I'm so glad you think that. And if they're ready and 
know they're ready, why deprive them of so much 
pleasure by making them wait longer - or ourselves for 
that matter?" 

There was no answer to that. 

"And as you said yourself, girls are learning much 
more quickly nowadays to enjoy fucking. And they 
_love_ doing it while everyone watches ... the sweet 
little darlings ... like your friend -" 

"Emiko?" I said, as he hesitated. 

"Emiko. That's right - I must remember. It's time I 
went and had a word with dear little Emi-chan. Maybe 
she is a girl I ought to invite more often." 

I had to go. I could see my driver making impatient 
gestures at me from near the door. I stood on tiptoe 
and kissed Roido-san good-bye. 

"Do be careful," I said again. 

He held me lightly: one hand was softly caressing my 
bottom while the other stroked my right breast. 

"When did _you_ start, Megumi?" he asked. 

"Well, the first time ... the first that mattered," I 
said, "I was seventeen." 

The nails of the hand stroking my bottom began to 
tickle me delightfully. 

"And your first whipping?" 

"That was at seventeen too." 

It wasn't quite true, as you who have read my story 
will know; but the truth was private. And too 
complicated to explain quickly. 

"Any regrets?" 

"Only that I didn't start a lot earlier." 

"Well, there you are, you see." 

== 

As I climbed into my lover's car I tossed my coat into 
the back and snuggled down into the front seat, 
enjoying the sexy feeling of leather against my 
nakedness. I thought again of Emi, wondering whether 
Lloyd had found her and what she was doing with him 
now. Whatever it was, I hoped it was sexy and nice. 
There had been something very moving about her sudden 
transition to sexuality, her surrender to her 
overwhelming desire to display her nakedness and give 
herself to pleasures she had so far only dreamt of. 
She reminded me of myself at her age, discovering my 
exhibitionism and my insatiable sexuality ... but was 
she really like me? I must be careful not to assume 
so. 

Hardly any other drivers noticed my near nudity, 
though at one traffic-light a truck drew up to our 
left and I saw the driver grinning down at me from his 
vantage-point. I wriggled in my seat and stroked my 
naked breasts and pussy for him with my gloved hands - 
then gave him a friendly wave as the lights went 
green. Outside my apartment block we parked for a 
while so I could thank my driver: he moved into the 
passenger seat and I straddled his lap, enjoying his 
vigorous thrusts into my pussy as he took control, 
grasping my tightly bound waist and moving my cunt up 
and down his shaft as he pleased. Of course I would 
have done it willingly for nothing at the party if he 
had asked me, but I wanted him to know I appreciated 
his kindness in driving me home. It took him a long 
time to come at the end of such a strenuous evening, 
but he managed it at last, having given me three 
enjoyable orgasms in the process. 

As I waved him good-bye from outside the entrance, I 
wondered why I felt chilly, then remembered I had left 
my coat on his back seat. Well, he knew where I lived, 
and now he also knew he would be thanked prettily if 
he took the trouble to return it. I felt glad I had 
suggested that last fuck. I punched our private access 
code into the keypad and the front door of the block 
hummed open. There were unlikely to be people around 
at this time, but if anyone saw me in my provocative 
party costume in the elevator or corridors there was 
absolutely nothing I could do about it. 

Knowing that we would often not want to bother with 
handbags on our evening expeditions, Sammy and I had 
devised a hiding-place for a spare key to our 
apartment in one of the electrical relay boxes in the 
corridor outside. I was just about to open it when I 
heard the doors of the other elevator open, and then 
male footsteps coming quickly in my direction. 

I froze, for once in my life completely unable to 
decide what to do. I didn't want a stranger to see 
where we hid our key, but without the key I couldn't 
escape into the apartment. I stood rigid near the 
door, turned in panic towards the approaching 
footsteps. And then there was no time to decide 
anyway. 

"Hello! Can I do anything for you?" said a voice in 
poor Japanese. 

I looked up and caught a glimpse of a _gaijin_ man, 
fair hair, well-built, wearing jacket, trousers and 
open-neck shirt, before modestly dropping my gaze. 

"Oh, no, it's all right," I stammered, "it's just that 
... I don't have my key ... and I don't think my 
room-mate's home yet ..." 

The last bit was rather a fib, but it was quite 
possible that Sammy was out late, still enjoying her 
special evening. 

"Perhaps I can help ..." 

"Oh, no," I said once more. 

I glanced at his face again, then lowered my eyes, 
more slowly this time. There was a promising bulge at 
the front of his trousers, thickening as he took in my 
tantalising public nudity. Perhaps my evening wasn't 
over yet either. I said nothing: the next move was up 
to him. 

"Wouldn't you like to come to my apartment and wait 
there? You can't stay here like this. Anyone might 
come." 

"Oh," I said hurriedly, fluttering my hands as if I 
had only just remembered my nakedness, "you mustn't 
think I usually ... like this ... It's just that I've 
been to a party." 

"I wish I'd been invited." 

I smiled and bowed slightly to acknowledge the 
compliment. 

"And the man who brought me home ... he's left now ... 
and I forgot my coat in his car." 

That was true so far as it went, and wasn't quite 
saying my key was in the coat. 

"Just down here," he said, talking me by the arm as we 
walked together past three or four doors and round a 
turn in the corridor. 

Inside his front door there was a tiny hallway where 
he kicked off his shoes. I left my long boots on - 
they weren't outdoor footwear but part of my party 
outfit. The sitting-room was like ours with similar 
furniture: obviously he too had hired it from the 
letting company. It was rather bare, with no books or 
pictures - just a few newspapers and magazines on the 
coffee-table. One was the Japanese edition of 
_Playboy_, open at a feature spread in which a model I 
knew slightly - though I thought her enhanced breasts 
rather vulgar - was coyly showing off her nudity. 

"You like Japanese girls?" I said with a touch of 
flirtatiousness, indicating the magazine. We were 
still standing close together. 

"Oh, _yes_!” he said enthusiastically; then, 
remembering to be polite, "do sit down ... can I get 
you anything?" 

"“What I'd really like," I said, "I know it's an awful 
nuisance ... but if I could use your bathroom - I feel 
so untidy from the party and I was looking forward to 
taking a shower when I got home ..." 

"Of course!" he said. "If you don't mind using mine 
... I have only the one." 

Without waiting for an answer he put his arm round my 
waist and led me out of the living-room. We crossed a 
tiny corridor and entered his bedroom. Again, it was 
similar to mine or Sammy's though with little personal 
about it. I wriggled tentatively against him as I 
looked longingly at the bed, and felt his arm tighten 
round my corseted waist. I was about to suggest that 
the shower could wait, but he spoke before I could 
find the words. 

"Over there," he said, indicating the door to the 
bathroom. "Oh, just a moment ..." He let go of me, 
crossed the room and opened a closet from which he 
produced a clean bath-towel. "Here. Please take your 
time. Er, is there anything else I can do for you?" 

"Well, yes," I said with some confusion, "could you 
please help me undo my corset? It's a little difficult 
... and _rather_ tight ..." 

He dropped the towel on a chair by the bathroom door. 
We stood close together as his fingers undid the 
straps and buckles down the front of my corset. It 
wasn't really that hard to manage but he pretended it 
was and took his time. At last it fell away and I 
stood before him naked apart from my gloves and long 
boots. 

"Thank you," I breathed. "I can tell you've done that 
before ..." 

We were standing so close, our lips almost touching, 
that in another moment we would have been kissing 
passionately, neither of us knowing who had initiated 
it. But I stepped back and made for the bathroom. He 
handed me the towel and I entered, waving shyly at him 
before closing the door. I left the corset where it 
lay. 

I took my time in the shower, carefully washing away 
all traces of the lovers I had had that evening - so 
far. When I was as dry as I could make myself with the 
big fluffy towel I found some talcum powder in the 
bathroom closet and with its help soon had my boots 
and gloves on again, as tight and smooth as they could 
be. Before leaving the bedroom I had a quick look at 
his belongings: there were jackets and slacks, and a 
couple of suits, in the closet and the usual piles of 
shirts and underwear in the drawers. It all seemed 
very impersonal: it told me very little about the sort 
of man he was, or his likes and dislikes. But he had 
said he liked us Japanese girls, and he must by now 
have discovered our special tastes. Then in one of the 
drawers I found what I was hoping for: the instruments 
with which he pleasured his girls. 

There were a couple of slender canes: I took one out 
and made it sing through the air a few times, 
imagining it kissing my delicate flesh. Beside them 
was a broad paddle fixed to the end of a riding-crop, 
with holes in the blade to reduce air resistance and 
enable it to strike harder. There were no 
nipple-clamps or dildos - perhaps his girls brought 
their own, producing them shyly from their handbags - 
but there were coils of rope, some gags and blindfolds 
and a pair of big whips. One was in thick, polished, 
plaited leather which creaked delightfully as it bent 
to and fro: a whip for specialists to use on 
experienced girls. The other was a cat-o'-nine-tails. 
Since cats are my great love I pulled it out of the 
drawer to examine it. Instead of the slim leather 
lashes to which I am accustomed, this had long tails 
in thin whipcord, some of them knotted, protruding 
from a long, thick, heavily ridged handle. I shook the 
lashes out and let them dangle on the floor. They 
seemed very long: twisting them loosely together I 
wound them experimentally round my hips. If the man 
whipping me stood fairly close these lashes could 
encircle me two or even three times. I could not 
imagine anything lovelier. How lucky his girls were! 
All I had to do was persuade him to pleasure me like 
that too. 

He stood when I returned to the living-room, then sat 
beside me as I took the corner of the sofa and crossed 
my legs. He had taken off his jacket and shirt while 
waiting for me: his bare chest and arms were broad and 
muscular and I felt myself tingling at the thought of 
submitting helplessly to such strength. His right arm 
was soon round my waist, and we kissed. It was all the 
better for having waited. His other hand was caressing 
my breasts, teasing the nipples into full erection. We 
broke apart and I lay back in the sofa, my lips a 
little open, waiting to see what would happen next. 

"I'm so glad we met," he said. "What's your name?" 

"I ... er ..." I put my arm round his bare shoulders 
and pulled him down onto my mouth again. Somehow I 
don't like sharing personal details with my lovers 
until I know we are going to be together for a while. 
I have come to find complete physical intimacy with 
someone anonymous rather arousing. To start with at 
least a new man is just a cock to fuck me and a pair 
of hands to stroke and whip me. But it's a bit 
difficult to explain. As we broke apart again, I said: 

"Tell me all the things you most like doing to girls." 

"No, you tell me the things you like, and I'm sure 
they'll be my favourites too. And if they're not, you 
can teach me!" 

"Well," I said, conceding, "I adore being fucked, of 
course." 

During the last kiss I had uncrossed my legs and left 
them slightly apart. Taking the hint, the fingers of 
his left hand were now lightly exploring my pussy, the 
middle finger delicately probing the entrance to my 
cunt. 

"Good, because I shall adore fucking you." He paused, 
uncertain how to proceed. "All three holes?" he asked 
at last. 

"Of _course_!" I replied. "I can never decide which is 
the best." 

"Nor can I!" He laughed. "What else do you like?" 

I looked away and pretended to be shy. I pulled him 
down onto me again, and whispered just before our lips 
met: 

"You enjoy whipping your girls?" 

"I love it," he said when he could speak again, "but 
only when the girl loves it too. Do you?" 

"Oh, _yes_!" I said, avoiding his eyes and making 
myself blush. "It's the best thing there is," I went 
on shyly. "Even better than fucking, really." 

"Well, I wouldn't say that, but it is lovely to tie a 
girl up and whip her while she screams and begs for 
mercy. Not really meaning it, of course." 

"Well, why don't you do it to me, and see if you can 
make _me_ scream and beg?" I enquired reasonably, 
scrambling up out of the sofa. "But first, take your 
trousers off too. I want to see what I'm getting!" 

It was a beautifully thick and veined cock, just what 
I had been dreaming of ever since I saw the first hint 
of it through his clothes out in the corridor. My 
evening was certainly not yet over! The best was still 
to come. I stood beside him and he held my bottom, his 
fingertips lightly brushing my crack and one tapping 
gently on the entrance to my arsehole. I wriggled 
coquettishly against it, and then moved away. 

"Whipping first," I whispered, as he supported me into 
the bedroom. "Lots and _lots_ of whipping. Then all 
the other things." 

He took me to the drawer I had already discovered. 

"Look," he said: "they are waiting for you. Which do 
you like best?" 

"May I really choose?" 

"Of course." 

"Then, please - the cat. It's always been my 
favourite." 

He pulled it from the drawer, its long whipcord lashes 
dangling to the floor just as they had done when I 
briefly held it, while I stood submissively at the 
foot of the bed. 

"Shall I bind you, or would you rather be free?" 

"Oh, bind me, of _course_ - it's so much more 
exciting!" 

"Doesn't it frighten you, being completely helpless in 
the power of a strange man?" 

"Of course it frightens me - that's one of the things 
that make it so exciting." 

He looped the cat's lashes together and dropped the 
instrument on the bed, then picked up my corset from 
where I had left it. 

"Shall we start with this? It looked so pretty on you 
earlier." 

"Yes, please. Make it as tight as you can." 

So I stood in front of him while his strong fingers 
again played with the straps and buckles. When he had 
finished I begged him to tighten them further, till at 
last I had the lovely breathless feeling that comes 
from a really constricting corset and which so 
increases a girl's sexual pleasure. And his, too: I 
knew that I looked even more desirable with my waist 
as tiny as it could be and contrasting with the full 
curves of my breasts and bottom.
 
He fetched the ropes from the drawer and looked at me 
thoughtfully. Then he started by tying my legs 
together round my upper thighs, either side of my 
knees and round my ankles. It was difficult to balance 
like that on the high pointed heels of my boots but I 
managed it. 

"Put your hands behind your back." 

With the other rope he began to tie my arms together. 
The first loop, just below my shoulders, he tied quite 
loosely and I had to beg him to tighten it, again and 
again, assuring him I really meant it, till my 
shoulders were bent right back, the pain exciting me 
and the position making my breasts jut proudly 
forward. Then he tied the rest of my arms, matching 
what he had done to my legs with tight bonds above and 
below my elbows and round my wrists. There was quite a 
length of rope left. There was a strong hook in the 
ceiling above my head, and after a couple of false 
tries he was able to loop the rope over it. 

"That was installed by the people who had the 
apartment before me," he said. "They obviously shared 
my tastes." 

I said nothing, keeping my strength for the ordeal I 
knew was to follow. He pulled the rope through the 
hook. With my arms tightly bound behind my back I was 
forced to lean forward as I was pulled upwards, until 
I was balancing on the tips of my toes with my body 
horizontal. When he had pulled me as tautly as 
possible he tied the loose end of the rope and walked 
round to examine his handiwork. That brought his erect 
cock quite close to my mouth. I licked my lips and 
looked up at him as best I could. There were already 
tears in my eyes. 

"Won't you let me ... won't you come in my mouth?" I 
gasped. 

"I'd love to, but later. You said it yourself: 
'whipping first'!" 

"Thank you," I murmured. "Lots and _lots_ of whipping 
... remember?" 

"I remember. You'll soon wish you hadn't reminded me 
... I wonder if I should gag you. This place isn't 
sound-proof and someone might hear you scream." 

"I promise I won't scream." 

"I promise you won't be able to help it." 

He didn't know me yet. I was proud of my courage under 
the lash. Only my adored Mr Otani, supreme artist with 
the whip, could force me to scream against my will. 
Other lovers were astonished at my endurance and 
determined silence, which of course inspired them to 
the even greater feats of cruelty I so longed for. 

"If I scream," I said, "you may stop. But I won't." 

"We'll see." 

At last the long strings of whipcord were withdrawn 
from the bed, and after a few practice strokes began 
to encircle my hips and thighs with their heavenly 
embrace. I had been beaten with thin whips before, of 
course, but never nine at once. The little knots stung 
me with delightful randomness as a beautiful 
counterpoint to the long-drawn kisses of the cords. I 
stammered my thanks and begged my lover not to stop, 
to whip me harder and harder - always in a low voice 
that could not be mistaken for the beginnings of a 
scream. I lost count after about twenty strokes, and 
was floating in a private world of bliss and lust when 
at last the cat stopped making love to me. 

He came round to stand in front of my face. 

"I can't wait any longer. Suck me!" 

I lifted my head and opened my mouth. Swiftly the 
thick tube of meat entered me, forcing its way down my 
throat. He was ready, and without my hands I could not 
hold back his orgasm by squeezing the root of his 
cock; but I gave him the best fuck I could, switching 
between luscious sweeps of my tongue across the 
sensitive underside and teasing investigations of the 
thick veins and unexpected bumps and crannies. At last 
he pulled out of my throat and came copiously in my 
mouth. When he finally left me I swallowed the cum 
greedily and thanked him as best I could from my 
position facing the floor. 

Again I felt something hard pressing against my lips. 
I could hardly believe that he was ready for me again 
so soon, and opened my eyes to see the ridged handle 
of the cat against my face. 

"Lick it. Kiss it," he ordered. 

Guessing what was to come, I covered the beautiful 
thing with as much saliva as I could, relishing the 
faint taste of the sweat from his hand. Then, as I had 
hoped, he moved behind me and I felt the wet handle 
pushing its way into my arse. Gasping with pleasure, I 
opened to receive it, each ridge bringing me almost to 
orgasm as the muscles of my anus embraced it. At last 
it was fully inside me. The long lashes flowed down 
behind me onto the floor. I could hear them rustle as 
the involuntary spasms of my anal muscles jerked the 
handle of the whip upwards and then released it again, 
just like a little pony frisking its tail ... how 
could I have said, I wondered, as the words came 
faintly back to my memory, that I did not know which 
of my three holes gave me the most pleasure? There was 
nothing to compare with this ecstasy, nor ever could 
be! 

"Very pretty," I heard him say. "But I think we can do 
better." 

I felt my hair being pulled as he tied a rope round it 
and then fixed the other end to the top of my corset, 
pulling it tight as my head was helplessly lifted. 
Another short pause; then his hands came into view 
again, holding a narrow stick with a ring and a 
leather thong at each end. Obediently I opened my 
mouth and received the stick, which was held firmly in 
place by tying the thongs to the rope suspending me 
from the ceiling hook. 

"Yes," I heard my lover say, "you make a very pretty 
little pony."[7] 

Suddenly a red flash penetrated my closed eyelids - 
and then another. If anything could add to my joy, it 
was the realisation that my exquisitely helpless 
posture was being recorded on film. Later, when he 
visited Sammy and me and brought me copies of the 
photos he had taken, I was overwhelmed by the beauty 
of what he had made from me - my arms and legs tightly 
bound, my body parallel with the floor, my head up 
with its bit and reins visible, and the long strands 
of the cat rising from my arse and falling gracefully 
to the carpet like the tail of a little horse. Of 
course he posted the pictures on the internet and they 
were soon picked up by sites which specialised in sexy 
oriental beauty - individuals did not have their own 
websites in those days. They are still among the most 
frequently downloaded pictures ever taken of me; but 
hardly anyone who has enjoyed looking at them knows 
who is the ecstatic girl trembling on the brink of 
orgasm. 

He said nothing. I heard rather than saw him retreat 
to the bathroom. He emerged only to switch off the 
lights, and with a grunted "Good night" he lay on the 
bed and prepared to sleep. Was this wonderful man 
really going to leave me hanging there in my bonds all 
night long? The thought of it thrilled me: I had 
hardly known a lover so sensitive to my sexual needs. 
The pain in my shoulders and the luxurious warmth of 
my bottom, still wriggling against the thick ridged 
shaft pushed so far up my arse, merged into a 
delicious helplessness which I wished could last for 
ever. Oh, I never wanted to be freed from this burning 
ecstasy he had created for me! But it could not last. 
I heard him moving restlessly on the bed, and before 
long a bedside light came on. He was standing before 
me again. 

"I need you," he said briefly. 

I was untied from the ceiling hook and my arms and 
legs were freed from the ropes. As I stood flexing my 
stiff muscles, he said simply, "Strip." 

He watched, the erection between his legs thickening 
and strengthening, as I slowly removed first my boots 
and my gloves, and then with his help the exquisitely 
painful corset. 

"Now I shall gag you," he said when at last I was 
naked. "Not to stop you screaming, just because you 
will look nice like that." 

I willingly took the ball-gag into my mouth and stood 
while he fastened the leather straps. The harness was 
complicated: two horizontal straps, then two others 
joined above my nose and passing over the top of my 
head. He buckled the straps together firmly behind my 
head, forcing the ball-gag deep into my mouth. It felt 
wonderful to be so tightly constrained - I could go on 
wearing this harness for ever, I thought. On his 
instructions I lay on the bed, my knees tucked under 
me and my bottom as high as I could raise it. 

Given the obvious urgency of his desire, I naturally 
expected I was about to be fucked - in one hole or the 
other. But suddenly a spasm of pain struck my bottom 
like a flame. It took several repetitions before I 
understood what was happening to me. This was not the 
tender love of the cat which I had enjoyed earlier: it 
was the screeching attack of the paddle attached to a 
riding-crop which I had noticed in his collection of 
instruments. Nonetheless I relished it. The fierce 
punishment meshed with my desire; and bright 
red-and-black visions began to fill my mind as I 
grunted my happiness and thanks through my gag into 
the pillows and tried to push my bottom back into the 
whirl of agonising pleasure it was receiving. 

Again, I have no idea how many strokes I received; and 
again it was his mounting desire which determined how 
long my new experience lasted. The beating stopped, 
and the bed heaved behind me. He began by thrusting 
his erection into my dripping cunt, soaking it in my 
bubbling juices. Quickly I opened my legs further to 
give him the fullest access. Then he pulled out and I 
felt the familiar sensation of perfect fullness as he 
began to push powerfully into my arse. My red-hot 
bottom, every nerve at the height of receptivity, 
welcomed his cock with joy, my anal muscles trying to 
pull it ever deeper inwards, while my mouth, earlier 
recipient of its bounty, tried to express my happiness 
and desire. 

At last I felt that extra fullness which precedes a 
lover's ejaculation, and with cries of happiness from 
us both it was over. His erection enjoyed its final 
spasm, shrank and withdrew. When at last I had come 
down from the heights, I slipped off the bed and in 
the bathroom removed my gag and wiped my bottom. I 
returned to find the lights off and my lover sprawled 
fast asleep on the bed. 

== 

It was still dark when I woke a few hours later. I 
felt cold: neither of us had bothered to slip between 
the sheets and we had been sleeping naked without 
anything to cover us. I could just make him out in the 
lights from the street outside, still deeply asleep as 
he lay sprawled where I had last seen him. I thought 
for a while. If I stayed where I was I could expect a 
glorious morning of whipping and fucking. But Sammy 
would be worrying about me; and after a few hours we 
would begin to tire of each other. He knew where I 
lived, and if I left him unsatisfied I could be fairly 
sure that he would come looking for me. Then Sammy and 
I could make use of him together: it occurred to me 
that I could hardly deny her her chance with a man who 
had come so splendidly in my mouth. 

I reached a decision, and slid as quietly as possible 
off the bed. I collected the items of my party outfit 
from where they lay scattered on the floor, and took 
the ball-gag as a souvenir. For a moment I was tempted 
by the whipcord cat-o'-nine-tails too, but it was too 
expensive to take - and probably too much loved by his 
other girls. Anyway, I reflected, a girl like me 
doesn't need equipment like that: she just needs 
plenty of lovers who have it and know how to use it. 

I tip-toed through the apartment and peered naked out 
of the front door. There was no one to be seen. 
Leaving the door open I ventured as far as the turn in 
the corridor and looked round it: still no one. I 
returned and closed the door behind me with just the 
slightest click, made it safely to the hiding place of 
our apartment's key and had vanished indoors a few 
moments later. All seemed normal when I let myself in, 
though Sammy had left me our secret sign - a cushion 
turned upside-down in the living-room - that she had 
brought a lover home for the night. In fact the little 
whimpers of pleasure I could hear through her closed 
bedroom door had already told me that. I was tempted 
to join them, but reminded myself we had agreed that 
breakfast was the time for sharing and trying out each 
other's lovers, unless specially invited earlier. 

In my own room I slid naked between the crisp sheets, 
my body warm and relaxed but agreeably tired from all 
the exercise I had given it. I was asleep almost 
before I had slipped my fingers into their usual place 
in my pussy. 

Sammy's pick-up turned out to be a Korean, thick and 
squat but very virile. I must warn her about Koreans, 
I thought - she doesn't know them the way we do. He 
said almost nothing during our customary nude 
breakfast, and when it was over dragged Sammy back to 
bed with just a grunt. They left the door open, so I 
followed them. Sammy was lying between his legs, 
ecstatically slurping away at his prick, while he 
gazed impassively at the ceiling. There didn't seem to 
be room for me but when he saw me he grabbed me by the 
wrist and pointed at his groin. So Sammy and I sucked 
and licked his erection together. When he was close to 
coming he began to take more interest in what we were 
doing, and at last sprayed his cum copiously over our 
faces while we competed to get as much as we could 
into our mouths. It tasted harsh and garlicky. 

"Do be careful with Koreans, Sammy," I said once he 
had gone. "They have great sexual stamina but they're 
sometimes brutal, and they love humiliating women. Did 
he treat you roughly?" 

"Oh, yes!" said Sammy with a blissful smile on her 
face. "He made me do some _wonderfully_ disgusting 
things." 


FOOTNOTE

[7] This was my first experience as a pony girl. Of 
course there are variants on this charming form of 
bondage: a pair of girls can be dressed in a variety 
of leather straps and high-heeled boots, and set to 
pull a light cart, their bottoms delightfully whipped 
as they run, little bells tinkling prettily as they 
dangle from the rings piercing their breasts. But I 
like best the motionless pose, with harness, a little 
saddle and a long tail held firmly in place by my arse 
muscles. It feels wonderful and is very arousing to 
spectators, who can of course mount you in various 
enjoyable ways. Do try it, or get one of your lovers 
to dress you as a pony and show you off to his 
friends. 


[Next in Part 13: Chapter XIII: The Dungeon Scene]


For complete series so far see 
/files/Authors/Bob_Williams