ALL I EVER WANTED 21

THE MEGUMI STORIES
BY MEGUMI KATO AND FRIENDS

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

CHAPTER XXI

Honeymoon Island

It wasn't quite a desert island, though it had 
palm-trees and a white sand beach, and was surrounded 
by a coral reef and a blue-green sea. There were a 
dozen or so chalets discreetly out of sight of each 
other, and a big central open-air dining area, where 
tables for two were arranged round a little 
dance-floor and a Filipino band played a simple 
version of Latin American music. Nearby was the pool 
and a play area, also in the open, for the group 
sessions which, we were promised, often developed 
spontaneously among the guests. 

The Manager greeted us in the lobby, supported by a 
group of his staff - all local young men and girls 
from the island or nearby. This was clearly a standard 
ceremony for new arrivals. The men wore long trousers 
but their muscular chests and arms were bare. I 
couldn't resist a little gasp of excitement when I saw 
that each held a long whip of plaited leather, the end 
of the lash looped on the ground. It was a clear hint 
that their services were available to any female guest 
whose regular partner was too occupied elsewhere to 
give her satisfaction. Raising my eyes to their 
smiling faces I saw that they were looking forward to 
being summoned to pleasure me. I controlled myself and 
walked past them proudly with my chin up; but I knew I 
wanted it and they knew it too. 

The girls were wearing a charming miniskirted 
housemaid's uniform, and it was obvious that their 
duties included more than making beds and cleaning 
rooms. Mr Otani was looking them over with interest 
and enjoying their smiles and curtseys. Surely he 
would concentrate on me alone, tonight of all nights? 
But there was something rather exciting in the thought 
of being helplessly tied, forced to watch my husband 
enjoying the pretty maids - and then receiving my 
reward as he summoned the team of strong young men to 
whip me to orgasm for his pleasure ... Or, another 
idea: perhaps I could secretly borrow one of the 
maids' uniforms and join in - and see how long it took 
Mr Otani to recognise me in the group. 

As he showed us round, the Manager pointed out how 
whipping-posts and -frames had been discreetly built 
into each chalet and among the palm-trees on each 
private beach. He whispered to Mr Otani - perhaps not 
realising that I understood English - reminding him 
that the staff were instructed to pay no attention to 
any screams they might overhear. 

Two of the charming maids turned down the bed and 
stayed to help me unpack, cooing and giggling over the 
pretty, sexy outfits in my trousseau and running the 
lashes of my whips through their fingers - rather 
longingly, I thought - before coiling them neatly 
beside my other special items in the drawers of the 
bedside table. When at last they had finished, 
reminding us as they left that dinner was already 
being served, I slipped out of my jacket and peeled 
off my hot-pants: standing in nothing but long gloves 
and thigh-boots, the pretty gold chains anchored in my 
breasts and belt tinkling delightfully, I took up my 
favourite submissive posture so that my new master 
could give me a taste - just a _tiny_ taste - of the 
pure white bridal cat-o'-nine-tails with thin, soft, 
tightly knotted leather lashes which I had prepared 
specially for our honeymoon. The knots left, as I had 
hoped, delicious little points of pain among the 
gentle tingling of my arse and thighs, and my heart 
was beating fast at the thought that later I would be 
tied helplessly between the trees, submitting fully to 
the new whip's embrace as the pleasant evening breeze 
whispered softly over my skin. 

At last I took off everything I was still wearing, 
including my chains. My husband stood watching me with 
an amused smile as I tried to decide what to wear. 
Perhaps I should ask his permission to remain as I was 
for the evening - clothing, the discreet brochure had 
informed us, was optional at all times throughout the 
resort, and what could be more appropriate for a bride 
on her wedding-night than nudity? But dinner was a 
time for showing off my new wardrobe, I thought. 

Matsumoto-san and I had worked hard on my honeymoon 
trousseau, but we had not been able to agree on what I 
should wear on my wedding night. She had designed me a 
charmingly romantic little dress for our first evening 
together, but I had a taste for something more 
provocative. On my instructions the little maids, 
wide-eyed with excitement, had laid both out on the 
bed for me. My choice was just a little g-string in 
soft white leather with a matching collar. I buckled 
them snugly round my hips and my throat, and posed and 
flirted and stroked myself in the long mirror; I 
balanced sexily on the slender high-heels of the white 
evening shoes I had bought to go with them, their 
curved soles bound to my feet only by narrow straps 
across my toes and round my ankles. I pinned a little 
white veil to my hair: not the long one I had worn 
with my western dress at the reception - that had gone 
back to the hire company - but just a little 
transparent decoration to remind myself, and everyone 
else, that this was my bridal night. I tried to guess 
what effect this teasing enhancement of my nakedness 
was having on my new husband, but he gave me no clues. 
Finally I clipped the dog-lead into the ring in my 
collar, picked up the slender cane which formed part 
of the outfit - long, whippy and sheathed in white 
leather, perfect for a bride submitting to her new 
master - and with a deep bow handed them both to my 
husband. 

"Please whip me with this whenever I am disobedient," 
I said. And when I am obedient too, I added silently. 

To my surprise he did not accept them. 

"No, let's keep that for tomorrow night. I shall enjoy 
showing you off then, and letting everyone see how on 
our wedding-night I turned my innocent bride into my 
slave." 

"Oh, you made me that ages ago ..." I said softly, 
gazing at his face and holding out the cane in the 
hope that he might still choose to use it on me. 

"No, wear something more innocent and virginal tonight 
... Not too innocent, of course, but let's at least 
pretend that this is our first night together." 

So Matsumoto-san had been right, as usual. I undressed 
again quickly. Her special wedding-night dress was in 
creamy, pale ivory silk - exactly the same shade as my 
skin - and I felt the slinky material caress my now 
naked body as I slipped it on. It was little more than 
a skirt, and felt as if it weighed nothing; leaving my 
back and my breasts uncovered, it was suspended only 
by little gold hooks from the rings which pierced my 
erect nipples. There was a gold band round the 
waistline and the wide, short skirt was flirty, 
swishing deliciously round my naked bottom. My long 
hair hung loose, tickling my bare back delightfully, 
decorated only by a flower chosen from those the maids 
had scattered over my bridal bed. I changed to 
matching high-heeled gold sandals and wore otherwise, 
because I knew they excited him, only little gold 
gloves up to my wrists. If anything, I felt even more 
naked than I had done in the g-string and collar, but 
demurely now rather than provocatively. I could feel 
something of the delighted apprehension which thrills 
through an innocent bride as she prepares to surrender 
herself to the frightening unknown desires of her new 
master. 

He took me in his arms and kissed me, his left hand 
lifting my skirt and caressing my nakedness. 

"No panties?" he asked with mock seriousness. 

"Please, Master, what are panties?" I asked 
innocently. 

He kissed me again, and I wriggled voluptuously 
against his crotch. 

"What a slut I married!" he said at last. 

"M'm! Punish me for it?" I suggested hopefully. 

"Later." 

I hoped Matsumoto-san would feel I was getting it 
right. 

The other guests looked at me approvingly as we 
entered the lighted dining area, some of the men - and 
women too, perhaps - hoping no doubt that, once the 
first excitement of the honeymoon had worn off, I 
would want to make myself available to others. I also 
liked what I saw: good-looking, well cared-for, still 
young and sexually active people - rich, too, if they 
could afford to stay on this island. 

It was customary for newcomers to introduce 
themselves, so as we entered the band played a 
flourish and the resort's Manager announced our names. 
We stepped onto the dance floor and my husband took 
the microphone he offered us. 

"We are here on our honeymoon," he said. There was 
polite applause, and I tried to look suitably shy and 
virginal. "Just married. In fact, because of the 
date-line, we actually got married tomorrow." The 
other guests laughed politely, some clearly having 
difficulty working this out. "I'm an American, but I 
am Chairman of a Japanese company called the Marucho 
Film Company. I also have a company of my own which 
distributes videos in the western United States. My 
wife Megumi and I look forward to getting to know you 
all better, but I'm sure you'll understand if we want 
to be alone together, some of the time at least." 

He handed the microphone to me. In careful Japanese 
English I said: "My name used to be Megumi Kato, and 
that's still my professional name. If your interests 
include Japanese pornography, you may have seen 
Marucho's products, and if so then you've seen me, 
because I'm in lots of them - doing lots of naughty 
things, I'm afraid." I looked down in mock 
embarrassment, and there was sympathetic laughter from 
the audience. "I'm nineteen years old, and I've been 
acting for Marucho since the day I was eighteen - 
which is the minimum legal age in Japan for acting in 
sex films. And my husband wants me to continue with my 
career after marriage. So I hope you'll see much more 
of me - doing many more naughty things." 

There was more laughter and applause. Mr Otani took 
back the microphone and added, "Megumi is one of 
Marucho's most important assets, and one of the 
reasons I married her was to keep her in the company. 
But there were other reasons too, of course, as 
perhaps you can see." 

I pretended to be indignant. Someone called from the 
darkness around us, "Tell us about your wedding 
present, Megumi!" 

My husband handed the microphone back to me, and I 
said girlishly, "Oh, that was so lovely! He gave me 
these pretty rings." The fingers of my free hand were 
already touching them, twisting them, showing them 
off. "And that's not all! He cut the holes himself and 
fitted them. Oh, he hurt me so wonderfully, and I've 
never loved him so much as in that moment." 

There was applause. The Manager took the microphone 
from me and put it back on its stand. Then he showed 
us to our table. A group of the bare-chested young men 
came to take our order, smiling confidentially at me 
as if I had already arranged a date with them and 
their whips. I looked quickly towards Mr Otani: he was 
preoccupied with the wine list. 

"Not tonight," I whispered to the leader. "Maybe 
later." 

We ate and drank very little that first evening: we 
were too excited. We were to have two whole weeks to 
ourselves on the island, after which Sammy would be 
with us for a further week: I hoped she would find 
enough to keep her amused. For my pleasure she would 
join us in bed sometimes, but would probably find the 
evenings of group sex with the other guests more to 
her liking. The special services on offer from the 
resort's male staff were another pleasure to look 
forward to - and for some reason I suddenly thought of 
my old school-friend Kimiko. How grown-up she had 
looked at the wedding reception. Surely she had stayed 
on and enjoyed - well, whatever happened after our 
departure. Was she ready now for the whip, I wondered? 
When we were back in Tokyo, I would ask Mr Otani to 
teach her. They would both enjoy it so much! I 
visualised her prepared for him, lightly bound, the 
ropes biting gently into her plump nakedness, 
frightened - like the virginal bride I was tonight 
pretending to be - of what was to come, but knowing 
she secretly longed for it and hearing a deeper 
instinct assure her that her longing was natural and 
right. 

After we had finished our meal we danced for a while. 
It was nice to torment ourselves by postponing the 
pleasures of the night. I nestled against my new 
master's shoulder and relished the feel of his right 
hand exploring my naked back while his left felt my 
bottom through the soft cloth of my skirt. I let out 
little murmurs of pleasure as his fingers found the 
spots already stimulated by the knotted cat. The music 
ended. As we began to leave the dance floor a woman 
who had been dancing near us spoke to me. 

"My dear, I know it's a personal question, but did you 
_enjoy_ having those rings put in your breasts?" 

"Yes," I said simply. "It hurt terribly. But you see, 
my husband did it to me, because he loves me; and I 
begged him to do it, because I love him. So it was 
wonderful too." 

She looked at Mr Otani with a mixture of astonishment 
and respect. I hugged his arm, and with my other hand 
began to twist one of the rings round and round, my 
excitement rising as I remembered how it had felt. The 
little diamond chips tickled the inside of the hole as 
they passed through. 

"We both thought," I went on, "that it would be so 
much nicer than an ordinary wedding-ring. And two, of 
course, rather than one." 

"Yes, indeed," she said, "they look delightful on you. 
I hope you both enjoy your stay here." 

"Thank you," said my husband, "I'm sure we shall." 

Servants lit us discreetly along the dark paths to our 
chalet, lingered for a moment in case we required 
their services; and then at last we were alone 
together. Here I could scream to my heart's content, 
begging my master to whip me more and more cruelly and 
fuck me any way he fancied: no one would hear me, or 
think anything of it if they did. I could feel the 
soft skin of my arse and thighs quivering in excited 
expectation. I stepped out of the high-heeled sandals: 
now was the moment to enjoy the perverse pleasure of 
little, tightly-laced boots, as worn by knowing 
Victorian sluts all those years ago. By now I had 
learnt to love their sadistic constriction. 
Matsumoto-san had provided a special bridal pair in 
soft white leather, their pretty heels almost too high 
to manage. I could tell that, without consulting me, 
she had had them made just a little tighter than the 
ones I had used for practice. Mr Otani at once knelt 
before me and pulled the laces exquisitely tight round 
my feet and up my calves. 

"Very pretty," he said approvingly as I danced round 
the room on my shapely little feet. "Not too tight, 
are they?" 

"Oh, _no_!" I said. 

"Don't they hurt?" 

"Oh, yes!" I said. "They hurt! They're _beautiful_!" 

"Yes, they are. Pain and beauty working together. You 
must wear them for me a lot. I think I'd like to kiss 
those little boots. Come over them." 

I giggled. Unbidden, a scene presented itself to my 
mind: a handsome lover lying over me sucking my pussy 
while I sucked his cock, Mr Otani grovelling on the 
carpet worshipping my feet ... 

"Of course," I said. "I'm glad they excite you as much 
as they do me." 

Now it was time to be fully nude for my new Master. I 
unhooked my pretty new dress from the rings piercing 
my shining, naked breasts and let it flutter to the 
floor. I tossed the gold gloves to join it, and 
clipped a broad gold slave bangle round my left upper 
arm. 

"I never want to cover my breasts again," I said. 
"Never, ever. Wherever I go, whatever I do, I want 
everyone to see what you did to me and how lovely it 
looks." 

He laughed, and kissed me. Then he too undressed and 
stood naked before me, his cock gradually swelling 
into an erection as he looked at me. I knelt, and took 
it gently in my hands. 

"I am your faithful and obedient slave - now and for 
ever," I said. "It will be my pleasure to do whatever 
you instruct me to do. I am yours to use in any way 
you wish. Whatever pain or pleasure you inflict on me 
it will be my joy to accept. I exist only to be fucked 
and whipped, without stopping for a moment, by you or 
by anyone you instruct me to give myself to. That is 
what I live for." 

I kissed the tip of his cock, enjoying the salt taste 
of the pre-cum beginning to drip from it. I looked 
anxiously up at his face, and was reassured by what I 
saw. I drew the beautiful length of his erection into 
my mouth - and so we consummated our marriage. 

Now, I thought, he can tie me firmly to the shackles 
discreetly hidden in the chalet's pillars, in front of 
the open window, my body bathed in the night air and 
trembling under his whip. I could hear the ripples 
falling on the shore: the beach too was ours to do 
what we liked with. We could wander there naked and 
fuck under the stars. He could tie me between the 
palm-trees and whip me while the whole world watched 
and listened. At the pool tomorrow, nude or perhaps 
with just a coy g-string between my legs, my new 
wedding-rings glittering in my breasts, I could 
proudly show off the first marks of his love and of my 
submission. 

"Let's go down to the beach," I whispered to him. 
"Fuck me there. In my cunt. In my mouth. In my arse. 
Then tie me up and give me the lovely new cat. Whip 
me, darling, oh how I want you to whip me!" 

I picked it up from the bed and pressed it into his 
right hand. 

"I'm afraid those thin lashes will mark you." 

"Oh, darling, don't you understand how proud I'll be 
tomorrow, when everyone sees what my wonderful, cruel 
husband did to his poor, innocent little bride on her 
wedding-night? Of _course_ you must mark me! Don't you 
know you married a slut who deserves it and longs for 
it?" 

"What do you deserve, my beautiful slut? A hundred 
lashes for every man you've ever given yourself to?" 

"That should see us through our fortnight - and with 
plenty to spare. I'm a slut, remember? Any man who 
wants me can have me. I promise I'll always give you 
good reason to punish me." 

"Do I have to have a reason?" 

"No, of course not, darling! If it pleases you more 
I'll be innocent and beg you not to hurt me when I've 
done nothing wrong." 

"Yes, that would be nice for a wedding-night." 

We stood together, he holding the cat by its handle as 
I ran my fingers through its slim, white, knotted 
lashes. Suddenly he pointed at the floor. 

"Kiss the whip, slave," he commanded. 

Quickly I knelt and took the beautiful lashes in my 
hands as they dangled loosely on the floor. Reverently 
I kissed them one by one, begging them silently to 
bring me to the height of orgasmic agony. For ever and 
ever. 

"Master, teach your slave how to please you. Use her - 
be cruel to her," I said shyly in a little-girl voice 
- and then, abandoning my virginal pretence, "Do you 
know what I've brought for you to use on me tomorrow?" 

"What?" 

"The cat with the sweet little metal points hidden in 
the lashes. I borrowed it from the studio. I want to 
feel it so much! Can you imagine the pain, and how 
I'll scream? Or how desirable I'll look when you've 
marked me with it? Oh, my dear master, please torture 
me - now and for ever!" 

I was standing again, my face buried in his chest. 

"Oh, Megumi darling -" 

"Take me somewhere where everyone can hear, and whip 
me till I beg for mercy." 

"Or till I do!" He laughed. "I've never heard _you_ 
beg for mercy. What does it mean when you do? That you 
want me to stop?" 

I kissed him. 

"Silly! It means I want you to whip me even harder. 
Slow and hard - you promised, remember? Don't let me 
come too soon. Take me up slowly, slowly - make me 
wait for it! I want to scream with agony all night and 
all day for ever and ever, longing for my climax and 
never quite being allowed to reach it. Is that good 
enough for you? Don't you dare stop! Not ever!" 

"Megumi," my master said seriously, "don't you think 
that what you _really_ want is to be whipped, and that 
fucking is much less important to you?" 

"Of _course_ not!" I said hotly. "I _adore_ having a 
cock inside me! You know I do." 

But even as I denied it, I knew it was true. 

We ran hand in hand, slave and master, from the chalet 
down to the beach, naked except for my deliciously 
tormenting high-heeled boots and my gold slave bangle. 
And my pretty rings, of course. They were mine for 
ever. Thanks to them, and him, I could never be 
completely nude again: I would always have to show off 
their glittering enhancements to my naked beauty. And 
there would be more decorations to come, burning their 
way white-hot into my eager flesh as cameras recorded 
the operation for the pleasure of my fans. He had 
promised. 

In his free hand my loving master was carrying things 
I couldn't quite see in the darkness. But I knew what 
they were. My sensitive skin was already thrilling in 
expectation of their loving caress. I hoped he had 
remembered my new nipple-clamps: I longed to feel his 
strong fingers screw them to the ultimate degree of 
pain, the clever needles lancing white-hot into my 
breasts while I hung helpless on the edge of orgasm. 

Our part of the beach faced east. Against the 
luminosity of the sea I could just make out ropes and 
chains hanging from two palm-trees conveniently close 
together. I stopped between them, trying not to let it 
seem deliberate. 

"Scream for me?" he said softly. 

"Make me," I replied. 

I would let him work for it, of course, but not for 
long. On our wedding-night he would give me all I 
wanted. He would torture me throughout the night, 
while I screamed and begged for more, till the Sun 
Goddess showed her face above the morning horizon, and 
smiled at her daughter's bliss as she hung there in 
her ecstatic agony ... 

That night and every night, hour after hour, 
endlessly, he would whip me ... then he would fuck me 
... then ... 

All I ever wanted ... 


END OF ALL I EVER WANTED


[Coming Next: Volume 03 of the Megumi Stories: I AM 
NOT ASHAMED] 


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