Learning_About_Myself.15 THE MEGUMI STORIES 06/15 BY MEGUMI KATO AND FRIENDS VOLUME 06: LEARNING ABOUT MYSELF BY SAYAKA ONODERA AND BOB WILLIAMS FINAL REVISED EDITION Part 15 CHAPTER XV The Man at Roppongi Hills The next morning I had another call from my manager at the agency telling me that the client had been satisfied with my performance and would probably hire me again. For my next assignment he gave me an address in a much classier part of Tokyo, an apartment block in a new development called Roppongi Hills. I was required for the early evening next day, and the client had booked three hours of my time. "What will I do for three whole hours?" I asked innocently. "You'll think of something. Or he will," said the man from the agency, with his rather unpleasant, but at the same time exciting, laugh. "Now, clothes. He wants you in a sexy, sophisticated, grown-up party dress. Got it? Do well." He hung up. Oh dear, I had no such item in my little wardrobe! The dresses I had worn for my adventures with Reina were sexy, of course, but hardly sophisticated. I could try to find something suitable in a high-class shop, but I had no money. There was nothing for it but to call Reina again and ask for help. "Don't worry!" she said at once when I had explained the problem. "I'm here to help with just that sort of thing! I want you to come and meet a friend of mine. This afternoon? Fine." We arranged details of where and when to meet and I hung up, feeling much happier. Reina's friend lived in a small block in a tangle of streets near Meguro Station. It was as well I had Reina to guide me as I would never have found it on my own. The old-fashioned elevator shook alarmingly as we travelled to the top floor. The door to the apartment opened almost as soon as Reina had pressed the bell and I was at once greeted by a large, energetic, elderly woman. "Now, you are Sayaka-san! I am Matsumoto. (Hello, Reina-san, as beautiful and sexy as ever - getting plenty, are you?) Come in here, my dear. Never mind the mess. This is a studio, a workshop." The room was lit by large attic windows and was piled high with clothes, swatches of material, and tattered heaps of fashion and soft-porn magazines. Matsumoto-san at last disappeared into the kitchen with a promise of tea: she kept on talking while she prepared it but the brief respite enabled Reina to explain that her friend had for many years worked for Kato-san's studio Marucho, where she had been head of the costume department. "Until they got tired of me and put me on the scrap-heap," said Matsumoto-san, returning bearing a tin tray with three cups and a teapot. She seemed to be able to hear what others were saying while at the same time talking without stopping herself. "Nonsense!" said Reina, seizing the brief pause while she was clearing a space for the tray on the table. "She was retired with honour and immediately made special adviser to the company's President. She's as much in demand as ever, though you wouldn't think it the way she talks. _And_ she can now do free-lance work, designing clothes for other studios and independent girls like me. The industry can't manage without her." "Well, that's easy to say," said Matsumoto-san with a cheerful grin and a wink to me. "Have some tea. At least I still have some friends who haven't forgotten me and come to me for advice on clothes for their special dates. You have a good time, Reina - when was it? Last Friday?" "Very good, thank you," said Reina primly. "No girl ever went on a date or to a party wearing one of my designs and came home without having been thoroughly fucked," said Matsumoto-san, after blowing on her tea and swallowing half of it. "Guaranteed. Right, Reina?" "Sayaka has a date tomorrow evening. A very important one," said Reina. "Good! What's he like, dear? Does he fancy you? Of course he does! He must do." "I don't know," I said. "I haven't met him." "Oh, agency date, is it? Good for you. Then we must get it right for you, so he gives you a good report." "Thank you," I said. "He has asked for ... what was it? ... a sexy, sophisticated, grown-up dress." "Sounds like the sort of man I like. Taste. Stand up. Take off your clothes and let me look at you." So I stood there in the cluttered studio in just my heels and underwear, turning round as Matsumoto-san examined me as if she were an artist working on an unfinished canvas. As of course she was. "Pull down your panties for me, dear. Just for a moment. _Paipan_, are you? Good. He should like that, whoever he is. How old are you? Fifteen, I guess? Right. Nice long hair on you, a baby pussy, good legs, pretty waist. Take your bra off, will you? Yes, fine full breasts but still young and firm. Just right for a man of taste. Now, let me see ..." She bustled around the room, pulling dust sheets off racks of clothes. "If I had more time I could make you something special. There was something a girl was wearing in a magazine I was looking at just as you came in ... needed my touch of course, but I thought 'There! That's something for a special girl on a special date.' Well, maybe another time. But there's stuff here that should suit you." She held dresses up against me, shook her head and took them away again. "I think this will do," she said at last. "Try it on." It was a short dress in dark crimson rough silk, the skirt tight round my bottom and the halter top tied with narrow bands behind my neck, covering my breasts modestly but leaving my back bare to the waist. Matsumoto-san uncovered a tall mirror and invited me to examine myself in the glass. "Better put your shoes on," she said after a moment. "You can't really tell without ..." I was on the point of running back to the entrance hall for them, but Reina gestured to me to stay where I was and kindly fetched them for me. "Hair up," said Matsumoto-san once I was standing erect before the mirror again, and gathered my hair together in one hand and twisting it into a simple sweep across the back of my head. "Nothing too complicated: it's bound to come down anyway when he starts to make love to you. Long sparkly earrings. Matching necklace - or a couple of strands of good pearls if you have them. Naked underneath the dress - but we'll come to that in a moment. What do you think?" The question was addressed to Reina rather than to me. She stood up, walked round me with a critical look, and nodded. Matsumoto-san patted me on the bottom in a friendly way. "You happy with that?" "Oh, yes!" I said, hardly able to tear myself away from the elegant vision in the mirror. "One thing we could add," she said thoughtfully: "gloves. This is meant to be a sophisticated evening outfit. Let me see ..." She wandered over to a set of drawers. I was beginning to see that despite the chaotic mess in the apartment she had a storage system of her own that worked. She pulled out a pair of long gloves in ivory leather wrapped carefully in paper. "Try these. Be careful with them: they're old and quite valuable." I slipped on the left glove and then the right, adjusting them as delicately as I could. They reached over my elbows and half way up my upper arms. I had never worn, or even seen, anything quite so beautiful. The leather was soft like a second skin and felt as if it was gently kissing my arms: much more elegant than the tarty red gloves I had worn for my last date, I thought. They were in truth just a little too long for me: they had been made for a girl with more elegant fingers than mine. The slight unevenness of the little stitches showed that the gloves had been hand-made. "They are _beautiful_," I said in an awed voice. "May I really borrow them?" "Of course! They do add something, don't they? I found them in the flea market at Nogi Shrine for almost nothing, would you believe? Man said he'd had them for ages - girls today think they don't want to wear old-fashioned stuff like that. But they're wrong." She sat down and poured herself more tea. "I've been working with fashion all my life. Sexy fashion of course - clothes for JAV stars to wear - but classy too. And the older I get, the more I understand the designers of earlier days, they knew all about classy-sexy too. The woman those were made for - and the girls in the workshop who cut them and stitched them - they knew what they were doing. Look after them. Don't get them dirty - take them off before you start stroking him! Take the dress off _first_, of course. For a man of good taste there's something very stimulating about a beautiful girl revealing the parts of herself that are usually hidden and covering up arms and legs that are normally bare. That's why gloves and stockings are always such a success. Let him enjoy looking at you. Then peel the gloves off, slowly and carefully. He'll be crazy for you after that!" I promised I would follow her advice, secretly wondering if I really had the sophistication to make a success of it and live up to the promise of these lovely clothes. "Find some simple but elegant shoes, off-white to match the gloves as closely as you can: the heels as high as you can manage but nothing tarty or glitzy. Another thing: don't tie the halter neck too tight." She adjusted the bow of the narrow bands as she spoke. "The front needs to be just a little loose. So he can catch glimpses of the curves of your breasts from the sides. Not too much, of course; just a nice little accident-on-purpose. Not that it will take him long to undo it altogether. Or ask you to. Can you strip nicely, dear?" "Oh yes," said Reina before I could answer. "She's done it at clubs several times. Loves doing it, and excites the men beautifully." "That's good to hear," said Matsumoto-san. "Girls today, they're such sluts, they want to take everything off at once." She let out a fruity chuckle. "Not that there's anything wrong with that or with being a slut, quite the contrary, but a girl needs to know how to tease her lover and build up his appetite. And her own, of course. Normally if you were just going off to be fucked at a party I'd put you in an even shorter skirt, but half-way up the thighs is about right for a high-class date. You know my motto! No, of course you don't: we've only just met. 'The shortest possible skirt, the longest possible hair and the highest possible heels.' That's how to keep a man nicely on the boil and eager to satisfy you. Which reminds me: how long has he booked you for?" "Three hours," I said shyly. "Yes, you should get a lot of fucking out of that. But he may be thinking of taking you out somewhere for part of the time. So here's what you do. You go to him nude under your dress, of course. But stick a pair of smart tights and a pretty panty in your purse. That way if you're to be seen with him in public, you'll look elegant and do him credit. He'll thank you for that - the best way a man _can_ thank a girl. Oh, here's a purse to go with the dress." She had stood up again and started hunting in drawers again while talking. She handed me a little clutch bag in matching dark red rough silk. "Oh thank you, thank you! You've been so kind to me!" "Nothing, nothing. I love helping girls who are starting in the sex business. Especially when they have a talent for it, as you do. Have a lovely time. Bring me back everything when it's all over. I want to hear every detail of what he does to you - and of what you do to him. That's the only fun I have these days." She packed the dress, gloves and purse professionally into a carrier bag. When Reina had at last managed to exploit a gap in her volubility to get us both out through her front door, we visited a shopping arcade near Meguro Station and found a local branch of a well-known Ginza shoe-shop. The assistant was able to find just what I needed: simple off-white evening shoes with high slender heels. "Of course you'll mostly be buying glitzier shoes in shops where the professional girls go," explained Reina. "Or girls who dream of being professionals. I'll show you where. There's a famous shop in Asakusa, for example, in the approach to the Kannon temple. But for an occasion like this you want something more understated. Even so, these are discreetly sexy. The heels are high and will make your legs look extra nice. And give you that hint of captivity - you know, of being unable to escape. It adds to a girl's attractiveness. And I like the neck." She ran her finger along the front of the shoe, which was cut so as to show a little of the divisions between my toes.[23] "If your man happens to be a foot-fetishist a low neck like this will drive him wild with lust." "Are a lot of men interested in girls' feet?" I asked. "Oh yes. It's a very common fetish. And a nice one, I always think. It's a pleasure for a girl to have a man grovelling on the floor, begging to be allowed to kiss her toes, even to come over them sometimes. _Gaijin_ who live in Japan nearly always have that fetish. But then it's hardly surprising: they say we Japanese girls have such nice little feet, compared with the great ugly ones Western women have, poor things." "Is Mr Williams a foot-fetishist?" I asked. "Of course. But then he has so many fetishes ... it's what makes him so popular. You never know what clever idea he'll be cooking up for you when you see him. Now, I'll pay for the shoes." "Oh, but ..." "It comes out of the money I'm holding for you, remember? Your professional fees. Now, we'd better think about jewellery. I don't suppose you have any pearls, do you?" "No." "Nor do I. Not quality ones, anyway. Just costume jewellery. Anyway, I think they're very old-fashioned, don't you? Whatever Matsumoto-san says. I'll lend you some long, sparkly earrings and I have just the right necklace to match." == "That's nice, dear," said my mother as I prepared to leave the house in my beautiful dress, carrying my purse and a shawl with which I proposed to cover my bare shoulders and back. "Will you be home late?" "Rather. But not very, I think." "Well, enjoy yourself." Not for the first time I wondered how much my mother really knew about my activities. Had she perhaps peeked into my private chest? But if she didn't have to know the things she didn't want to know, that would be all right, I thought. She had discreetly refrained from asking whether I was serious about any of the men I was now dating. I decided to treat myself to a taxi to get to the very smart address to which I had been summoned. Sitting primly on the back seat, agreeably aware of the admiring glances of the driver in his rear mirror, I took the long gloves out of my purse and pulled them on carefully, smoothing the soft leather till it once again felt like a second skin. I had not worn them on leaving the house as my mother would surely have asked where I had got them. I was wearing a medium-length set of fingernails - in an overall deep pink, nothing too brash or glitzy. I had calculated that the long fingers of the gloves would leave room for me to wear them. Like Matsumoto-san, I wondered who she had been, the girl long ago with such elegant hands for whom these gloves had been made? Then I just had time to make sure my hair was up and would stay up, before we arrived at the modern apartment block and the driver swung open the rear door with a flourish. I had the money ready with which to pay the fare, so that I would not have to hunt in my purse and perhaps dirty the fingertips of my gloves. I walked up the broad entrance steps to the big glass doors, which hissed open allowing me into the lobby. No entry-phones and door-buzzers for those who could afford to live here: their visitors were welcomed by a uniformed porter at a desk. "I have an appointment with Mr Ken Kobayashi," I said hesitantly. "Certainly, miss. What name?" It suddenly occurred to me that I had never thought to give myself a full professional name. The only name I could give was "Hanako" which on its own sounded far too intimate. Still, the porter showed not a flicker of surprise. "Miss Hanako is here to see you sir," he said into his telephone. "Certainly, sir." He hung up. "If you will take the elevator to the penthouse suite, miss, Mr Kobayashi will be waiting for you." If he was privately thinking "Lucky Mr Kobayashi" he was far too professional to show the slightest hint of it. He stood up and pressed a button on his desk. The doors behind him opened silently, and he bowed me into the elevator. The name Kobayashi was engraved on the top label on the panel. The heat sensitive button did not respond to my gloved finger, so the porter had to reach in and help me. The doors closed and I was on my way. There was only one door in the big hallway of the top floor: it was open and a handsome man in, I guessed, his late 30s was standing there waiting for me. I introduced myself and bowed, taking a quick look at my client as I came upright again. He was smartly dressed in white slacks and a dark blue open-necked shirt. He had well-polished brown loafers on his feet: unusual, it fleetingly occurred to me, for a Japanese at home to be wearing shoes. "Please come in," he said. "Oh, don't worry about your shoes - I have become rather Western in my habits, and I think a smartly dressed lady should be allowed to remain smart." He ushered me into a living-room. It seemed enormous to me, elegantly furnished and with wide picture windows giving onto a balcony and a splendid view of Roppongi in the evening sun. My shawl was slipping off my shoulders and he gently removed it for me, his hands exciting me as they touched my shoulders and upper arms. "What a lovely room," I said. "Let me show you round." His right arm was round my waist. I inclined my left hip slightly towards him as I moved so that he could hold me more snugly. He led me towards the windows, and slid one of the panels open. With a murmured "Shall we?" he guided me onto the broad balcony. We stood by the rail while he pointed out the new buildings which had recently appeared in the Roppongi area. As I followed his directions, I could feel his glance brushing the curves of my left breast, partly visible through the side of my dress. How glad I was that I had followed Matsumoto-san's expert advice and tied the halter-neck a little loosely! Then he turned me to face him, put both hands on my shoulders and kissed me. I responded, of course: I had expected him to do something like that, but - more - I had been wanting him to do it ever since I had first felt his touch. "You are very beautiful," he said. "But I knew that from the pictures your agency showed me. And what a lovely dress!" He turned me round so that I had my back to him, and slid his hands under the cloth so that he could fondle and squeeze my breasts. I leant back against him, rubbing my bottom gently against his crotch, and sighed happily. "How good that feels!" I murmured. One of his hands abandoned my breasts and began to fiddle with the bow at the back of my neck. "May I?" "Please let me," I said. I pulled gently away and turned to face him. I raised both gloved hands and began to take the bow apart, very slowly. I smiled teasingly, but then to show my true feelings and desires put my head on one side, raised my shoulder and rubbed my cheek against it in what I hoped was an unmistakable "I want to be touched" signal. The bow was fully undone now, and I let the front of the dress fall so that I was naked above the waist. But instead of returning to his arms I moved back to the balcony rail and gazed out over the view. It was beginning to get dark and the cityscape was illuminated. I felt him join me and put his arms round me from behind, his hands finding my breasts as if they were the most natural place for them to be. As of course they were. "How lovely!" I said, pretending to refer to the view but in fact meaning the wonderful tingling his stroking hands were sending through me. He said nothing for a few moments, and just continued arousing me. Then he took me back to the centre of the balcony. "You look so lovely like that," he said. "But now please take it all off for me." "Of course. I want to. So much." This, I thought, was to be the most important performance of my life so far. Of course, thanks to Reina, I had stripped and been naked for audiences a few times already. But now I would be stripping for an audience of one, and that one a man I wanted desperately to please. I stood in a model pose, weight on one foot and the other leg out a little to one side, and smiled as I raised my gloved arms above my head. Then with one hand I fiddled with one glittering earring, and began to stroke my breasts lightly with the other. Slowly my hands moved down to my waist. It took just a moment to slide down the discreet zipper, after which I began to rotate my hips gently - not blatantly - as the skirt of my dress slid slowly over them. I stopped it falling to the floor and held it as I carefully stepped out of it. For a few moments I held the dress against me, teasing him - and myself - by hiding "those parts that men delight to see"[24] and that girls delight to reveal; then I placed it neatly on the nearest of the chairs arranged on the balcony. Nude at last - apart from gloves and shoes - I swayed and danced ecstatically. Then we were in each other's arms. Had I moved towards him or had he come forward to take me? Neither of us knew. "Oh, you are so lovely!" he was saying. "And those gloves! And the jewellery! It is so good when a girl wears jewellery when she is wearing nothing else." And I? I was whispering immodestly, "Take me! Oh, take me! I can't wait a moment longer." Together we stepped through the open window back into the living-room. He let go of me long enough to twist a dimmer light-switch and pull off his shirt and slacks. "Please wait just a moment," I said shyly. "Why, darling? I _can't_!" "I must take my gloves off ... they might be damaged when you take me. You see, they're old and valuable." "Oh yes! Do it for me ... let me watch!" I returned to my stripping mode, and removed my right glove slowly and sensuously. Once my right hand was free, I stepped closer and began to pull down his shorts, releasing his erect cock. I stroked it gently a few times, an earnest of what was to come. Then I made him wait while I peeled off the other glove. The moment I had finished, he lifted me in his arms. I wrapped one arm round his shoulders and kicked flirtatiously with my legs. "Take me! Oh, take me!" I said again. He carried me swiftly from the living-room into the bedroom and laid me on the big bed, already stripped to the sheet. He knelt beside me, kissing and stroking my mouth, my breasts ... then he gently parted my legs and began to kiss and fondle my crotch. "No hair ..." he murmured. "You like that?" I asked anxiously. "Oh, yes ... such a _beautiful_ pussy ... and nothing to stop me enjoying it!" The tip of his tongue began to tickle my clitoris. I gasped at the sudden pleasure and could not help wriggling away from him. He held my hips firmly and began to lick and suck my clitoris and pussy enthusiastically. Great waves of pleasure from my excited love-button began to throb through me and I began to babble - oh, such silly things I cannot bear to repeat them! His tongue was deep in my cunt now, lapping up the love-juice dripping into his mouth. One of the hands gripping my hips was moving round underneath me and raising my bottom to a more convenient angle for his lips. And - yes! - one finger was pressing against my anus, seeking entry into my second and so far virgin lower love-hole. I reminded myself that, wonderful though his love-making was, it was my job to please him, not to be pleasured. I had been purchased for the evening. That was a thrilling thought, and it added to my excitement to know that a man had found me desirable enough to buy me and to pay to make love to me. Whatever happened I must be a _good_ prostitute and worthy of my new profession. "But won't you ... let me ... take your cock?" I gasped between the spasms of ecstasy flooding through me from my pussy. "I'm doing nothing to please you!" "You're doing everything to please me, darling!" he protested. But nonetheless he swung round on the big bed so that I could take his cock into my hands. It was not huge: the standard for that had been set for me in my experience so far by the magnificent pieces of meat proudly owned by Harry and Anton, my and Reina's partners in our shameless display at the club where they worked. But it was a nice one and I knew I could enjoy its strength and urgency. I twisted round so that I could lick it, kiss it, and gradually draw it into my mouth. Of course that put a stop to any conversation, from me at any rate; and I concentrated on applying all my cock-sucking skill to my new possession. After all, that was one skill I could claim to have from years of after-school experience! Our mutual lust was so great that we came together in our 69 position. If he had been planning to take me in other ways too during this first fuck, they would have to wait for later. Great gobbets of creamy cum burst into my mouth and I pressed my pussy repeatedly against his lips as if trying to fuck his maddening tongue. And although I have never been any good at _shiofuki_ or gushing,[25] I think on this occasion I did ejaculate a little of the transparent liquid which many men claim to enjoy so much. When at last I had sucked the last drop of cum from his cock and released it from my hands he quickly swung round on the bed and sat beside me. "Oh, that was so good!" he said. "Was it good for you too?" "You sucked me _beautifully_!" I said shyly. "Did you really enjoy it?" "Of course! You have a lovely pussy. And you make delicious love-juice. Some of the best I've ever tasted. And when you came, you squirted - just a little bit! I wasn't expecting that, you naughty girl!" He leant down and kissed my eyes and nose, just to show he didn't mean it. "And," I said, feeling a little bolder, "it was so nice the way you pressed your finger against my ... you know ..." "Against your arse-hole? Oh, it was so sweet, the way it was throbbing. And it's so small - are you really still a virgin there?" I said nothing, but he knew I meant yes. I began to sit up and scramble off the bed. I made for the bathroom, preparing to refresh myself for what I so hoped would be further, more elaborate, love-making. It was in keeping with the rest of the apartment, with both a bathtub and a shower with sprays up and down the walls to tickle and stimulate you delightfully. But I did not stay long. I knew there were even better kinds of sexual stimulation waiting for me. And, I reminded myself firmly, wonderful though his love-making would be, I was here to pleasure my client. "I am a professional now," I said proudly to myself. "I want him to be more satisfied with my services than he has ever been with any other prostitute. And this is a man who can afford the best. It is a great privilege to be summoned by him." After this little private pep-talk, I returned to the living-room, still wearing just my heels and jewellery. He was sitting naked on one of the couches, his legs apart, and gestured to me to sit beside him. But I preferred to take a modest position on the floor kneeling between his feet. His semi-erect cock dangled enticingly by my face. Surely he would soon be ready to take me again? I held it my right hand, pushing it gently up against his belly while I stroked the sensitive underside; with my left I weighed his heavy balls, tickling and prickling them with the tips of my pointed fingernails. "Surely you have more cum in there to love me with?" I asked teasingly. Without waiting for an answer I leant further forward and took his cock slowly into my mouth. If ever I have loved and desired the thousands of cocks I have sucked, I thought, I love and desire this one. I swirled my tongue round it, holding it firmly between my lips as I plunged and withdrew. I heard him groan with pleasure as my sucking forced his flesh to harden: there was no way he could resist me! I started tickling his balls again with my nails, and then slid a finger along the channel between his buttocks, letting it worm its way towards the muscular ring of his anus. I would have to be careful not to hurt him with the sharp point of my nail, but had he not tested my willingness to accept anal penetration while kissing and loving my cunt? I wanted so much to do the same to him - or the male equivalent of what he had done to me. Did men enjoy having their anal passages entered like that by a girl's finger? Much more important, would _this_ man enjoy it? I had read somewhere that gently penetrating a man's anus and tickling his prostate could give him an erection. Well, he had an erection already - I had seen to that - but as a professional wasn't it my duty to find new ways of pleasuring my clients? "Oh, darling, what a wonderful cock-sucker you are!" I heard him say. "Do you love it the way I love sucking pussies?" Well, the honest answer to that was that I loved it far too much to want to stop doing it to engage in idle conversation. So I just mumbled something which made my lips vibrate as I slid them firmly to and fro along his shaft. From the cries of joy I could now hear from somewhere above me I could tell that if I was not careful he would come before I was ready for him. His hand was on the back of my head now, forcing my lips right down to the root of his shaft; the tip of his cock was pressing against my throat. I suppressed the urge to gag, relaxed my throat muscles and swallowed the head. Meanwhile I was losing the opportunity to discover if his anus would respond to my finger. I pushed it further towards its goal, then pressed carefully with my fingertip. Yes! I could feel his muscles gasping open and then closing again, longing for penetration and then rejecting it. What a pity I had not thought to remove my artificial fingernail so that I could experiment further. Well, now that I knew what he liked there would be time for that later. Would this wonderful man feel his masculinity threatened if I explored his body with a vibrator - or even with a _peniban_[26] as Reina and I had done to each other? Perhaps a man of this experience and sophistication would find it piquant to play the feminine part and let himself be penetrated by a naked girl with an insatiable artificial cock dangling between her legs. The idea was so charming that I began to giggle. The extra stimulus pushed my lover past the point of no return. I pulled back a little, releasing the head of his cock from my throat so that I could savour the flood of cum on my tongue instead of having it injected straight into me. Yes, the cock was swelling as the precious fluid was forced along it in glorious consummation of our love. Slowly, taking care not to lose a drop, I withdrew. As he recovered from his climax, he looked down contentedly, and watched me swirling his gift around my mouth, mixing it with saliva, letting it pour out onto my hand, licking it back up again, deliberately dribbling some of it onto my breasts. "You look like a kitten with cream," I heard him say. "Or, rather, like a little girl playing with a new toy." "I love it," I said rather stickily as I swallowed the mixture down in stages. "Thank you, thank you! You came so nicely. Did I please you?" "Oh yes. And you were doing very naughty things to me with your fingers." "Did you enjoy that? Oh, I do hope you enjoyed it!" "Very much." "I'm so glad. That means there are other nice things I can do to you." Suddenly he sat up straight on the couch. "I'm hungry!" he announced. "Are you?" I said coyly, pretending to misunderstand him. "What do you want to do to me now?" "I want to take you out to dinner! Go and put some clothes on." I looked round for my dress and then remembered I had left it on the balcony after I had stripped for him there. I walked to the window, slid it open and stepped out. The cool evening air felt fresh and sensuous as it slid over my nakedness. Before picking up the dress I went to the balcony rail and leant out over Roppongi. Were people watching me and enjoying my shameless display of nudity? Oh, I did so hope they were! I waved mischievously at my imagined audience, then collected my dress. Back in the living-room I found my purse and vanished into the bathroom. I was so grateful to Reina's friend Matsumoto-san for knowing that Mr Kobayashi might want to take me out somewhere during our time together. I pulled the little silver t-back panties and discreet pale tights from my purse and put them on. I washed my hands, cleaned the traces of cum from my face and breasts, and adjusted my hair. I pulled the skirt of the dress over my hips and was about to tie the halter behind my neck when I thought of something. It was rather naughty of me, because neither Reina nor her friend had said that I might, but in a corner of my purse I had hidden my favourite pair of clamps - the ones which were just two little sleeves of steel to slip over my erect nipples and adjust with the screws which made each sleeve grip tighter and tighter ... I pulled them out from their hiding place and fitted them. The tiny chains and downward pointing arrows in matching steel were still attached. I twisted the screws till my breasts caught fire and flooded me with delicious waves of feeling. Then at last I tied the bow in the halter-neck, having to redo it several times till I had the right effect, my breasts just visible from the side when I stood upright, but not blatantly revealed. Then I rejoined my client in the living-room. He had already dressed in his slacks and shirt from before, and had added a light jacket, but I made him wait - and watch - while I carefully put on my gloves and smoothed them to a perfect fit. "You look lovely," he said when I had finished. "Will you want your shawl?" "No, it's still quite warm outside - and anyway it feels much nicer without." It would be exciting to feel the evening air caressing my bare back, I thought, giving me a sensation of at least partial nudity. We left the penthouse apartment and took the elevator to the entrance floor. The porter greeted us respectfully as we crossed to the street. I hardly knew Roppongi Hills but Mr Kobayashi guided me the short walk to a huge international hotel which was a centrepiece of the reconstruction of the area. "I often eat here ..." he said vaguely as we entered the enormous lobby. Such a sophisticated environment was something new for me, but it felt good to be there on the arm of a handsome, experienced man, dressed smartly enough to attract admiring glances on our way across the lobby to what seemed to be an Italian restaurant. "Is this all right for you," he asked as a waiter showed us to our table, "or would you prefer to eat in the main restaurant?" "This is lovely," I said as the waiter, addressing Mr Kobayashi by name, flourished two enormous menus in front of us. "In fact, I'm not very hungry. Please will you order something light for me? I'm so excited," I went on, dropping my voice to an intimate murmur, "imagining all the things you will perhaps do to me later ..." He smiled at me, and then turned to the hovering waiter. What I had said was true, of course, but my sexual arousal was increased further by the waves of desire flooding from my tightly clamped breasts and stimulating my panting love-holes almost beyond endurance. Wearing the little steel implements and subjecting myself to their torture had been a lovely idea but their enhancement of my craving for sex was going almost too far for a public restaurant. It was urgently necessary to think and talk of something other than sex. "What is your business, Kobayashi-san?" I asked with an effort, as the waiter departed and his attention returned to me. "Please don't call me that, Hanako!" he said. "My name is Ken." I bowed in acknowledgment of his kindness, and repeated my question. "Well, I'm a film director," he said. "But how exciting! What films have you made - would I have seen them?" He reeled off a few titles with a quizzical expression on his face, and I had to admit I had not. "Don't worry, I'm not surprised. They were all art films and unless you're very interested in the cinema you won't know them. And they didn't make any money! But then I found myself working with the Americans." "That must have been interesting!" "Well, it meant making artistic compromises for the sake of money. The history of the cinema." He smiled at me and spread his hands in a gesture of mock resignation. "I expect you know that there have been big joint ventures in recent years between Japanese and American companies. Making popular feature films." "Wasn't there a film," I said, searching my memory for something I had seen on television, "about an American ... Tom Cruise, was it? ... who became a samurai?" "Yes. _The Last Samurai_. I didn't work on that, but I was assistant to the American director on others. Then I was asked to be assistant director on films made in the US. And now I make my own films." "That's wonderful for you!" I said. "Now tell me about yourself. What are your plans, dreams, hopes?" "Well," I said shyly, "I'm hoping to become a film actress. One day. When I'm old enough." "What sort of films do you want to act in?" I looked down and blushed. This is absurd, I then thought: he knows I am a prostitute - he has bought me for the evening. So why should I be embarrassed to tell him that my dream is to act in sex videos? Is it perhaps because I'm afraid a great mainstream director like him will despise the sex-film industry? Well, if he does, he shouldn't. I forced myself to look him straight in the eye. "I want to be an AV actress. I want to star in sex videos. But of course I have to wait till I'm eighteen. Oh, it's so _unfair_." I found myself looking down and blushing furiously again. "I want to do it so much. I know what I want to do. And I have to wait for _years_!" I looked up again. He wasn't disapproving at all: he was smiling. "I think that's wonderful!" he said. "Beautiful and talented girls like you are just what the industry needs." "So you don't disapprove of films like that? Or disapprove of me for wanting so much to act in them?" "Of course not! I love films like that. I have quite a collection. Most normal men do, I guess. And I think it's ridiculous that girls have to wait till they're eighteen before they can take part. A girl knows when she's ready. And young girls like you look so incredibly charming, getting nude and fucking on screen. Or in public - you know, in clubs or at parties. They're so delightfully enthusiastic. Fortunately," he went on, seeing that I was still distressed from my outburst and giving me time to recover, "Japanese girls usually still look very young, even when they're over eighteen. The director puts them in schoolgirl costumes, or something like that, and they pretend to be little _roriitas_ - and the audience pretends too." "You like little _roriitas_?" I asked with a flirtatious smile. "M'm. I told you - I'm a normal man. But I like real ones best - like you." I blushed and looked down at my plate. "I had a girl-friend once," he went on. "A long time ago. She was like you. Couldn't wait to act in adult videos. But of course she had to. Wait, I mean. A girl's career can be ruined if it comes out that she was being fucked on camera when she was underage. And it does come out, you know: it's a highly competitive business and studios don't hesitate to sabotage each other's successful stars if they can. Or blackmail them." "Blackmail them? How ...?" "Threaten to publish what they know about their underage activities unless they agree to change studios. Or provide special sexual services, you know the kind of thing." I was tempted to say no, I didn't know, but it sounded fun and would he please tell me in more detail what those special services were - but he clearly expected me to look shocked, so I did that instead. "What happened to your friend?" I asked. "Oh, she waited till she was eighteen, then went for a screen-test with a big studio, made a lot of successful videos and now she's an important businesswoman. Still in the adult video business. I keep in touch with her - she's married and has other, you know, interests but I'm rather proud of having known her when she was a beginner. Or even before. And she was very helpful to my younger sister." "Tell me about your sister." "Well, she's become quite a successful AV actress herself." "Really?" "Yes. She now specialises in bondage and punishment movies. You know the kind of thing. They all have pretty much the same plot. An innocent girl of good family is kidnapped, taken to some secret location, and then bound and tortured. My sister is a little on the plump side, you see - in an attractive way - and she looks very pretty wearing tight ropes and with whips bouncing off her tautly bound flesh. And she says she enjoys it." "I've never seen that kind of movie. What happens next?" "Well, the kidnappers turn her into a sex-slave, either for their own use or to work servicing customers to make money for the gang. At first she resists - which means she gets whipped some more - but then she finds she enjoys it, becomes a member of the gang, says good-bye to her old life, maybe signs a contract promising to be a sex-slave from then on." Once again I resisted the temptation to say what fun that sounded, but I am sure my face showed clearly what I thought. "Tell me," I said, changing the subject slightly, "if it's not a rude question that is, how does it feel seeing your own sister starring in sex-videos?" "Well, it was a bit strange at first, I have to admit. I hadn't been interested in my sister that way, you see - not the way some brothers are. And to be honest she'd never come across as a sexy girl. Never dressed smartly - except of course when she started work as an OL and had a uniform - never brought boyfriends home or even talked about them. And then, all of a sudden ... something happened to her. I don't know what it was exactly. I'd left home by then, started my career, got married. But from what my mother told me later, it was at a wedding." "Really?" I was surprised. From my limited experience weddings were rather dreary affairs, where one had to listen to too many speeches and be polite to distant cousins, giggly in dresses bought from a provincial shop which they wrongly thought were chic: hardly occasions for life-changing experiences. "Yes, I thought it was odd too. It was the wedding of one of Kimiko's former school-friends - in fact the girl I told you about, the one who did well in the AV business. So perhaps there were people from her studio there ... you know, on the look-out for new talent. Even so, it was very sudden. She started dressing nicely, going to parties ... then one day she calmly informed the family she was giving up her respectable OL job and wanted to become a fuck-film actress."[27] "That must have been quite a shock." "Well, my father thought she was mad, but said she was old enough to decide for herself. After all, I was well launched on a career and might well give him a grandson to carry on the family name, and Kimiko was only a girl. I supported her, of course." "That was good of you." "Well, I was in the film business myself. A different branch of it, but still ... My mother was worried she was ruining her chances of getting a good husband. You'll probably find that's what your mother says when you tell her going to become an AV actress." I blushed and looked down. It was very perceptive of him to understand why I was asking him about family reactions to his sister's career. "So you are married?" I asked. It wasn't the most discreet of questions but it was the first way that occurred to me of changing the subject. Fortunately he was not upset or offended. "Yes, but don't let it bother you. We've lived apart for years. She was very supportive when I began in my career, creating art films that were critical successes but made no money. Once I started working with American studios, she decided she wanted to do something worthier and is now lecturing on the history of oriental art at a university in Aomori Prefecture. Where she comes from. We're still good friends but we've agreed to live different lives." I stopped pretending to eat the food in front of me and pushed the plate to one side. He leant forward and looked into my eyes. I could feel my heart beating faster. I knew what was coming and knew too that I wanted it desperately. "Well, if you've finished, shall we go back? There are so many things I want to do while we still have time together ..." "Oh yes!" I breathed, hardly able to speak. "I want you to do them too ... so much ..." == As soon as we returned to Ken's apartment I slipped into the bathroom and quickly removed my tights and panties. When I returned, he had put on some background music with a slow beat, and without waiting for him to tell me I danced for him. It wasn't really a strip: I had only my dress to take off after all, but I made the most of it. Then, when I was in his arms, his hands at once found my breasts and he began to play with my little nipple-clamps. "So pretty!" he said. "Do you often wear them?" "Oh yes! These or other pairs. You don't mind, do you?" I added anxiously. "Of course not! They make you even more beautiful. And sexy." He fiddled with the mechanism and I let out a gasp as the little steel sleeves seized my nipples in an even tighter embrace. "Do you enjoy pain?" "Well, I don't know. I love wearing things like these and I adore the feeling they give me, but it isn't pain. It's just a wonderful warm tingling feeling that makes me so happy." "That's very unusual. Very special. I'd like to ... Do you mind if I take some photos of you?" "Of course not! Please do." I had a strange feeling that he had changed what he planned to ask in mid-sentence. There was something he'd like to do, and it was connected somehow with my love of wearing tight nipple-clamps. Perhaps I would find out later what it was. Meanwhile he opened a drawer and took out a very elaborate and expensive camera. Under his expert guidance I posed standing, sitting, lying on the couch, then standing on the terrace showing myself nude to anyone who might be watching. That was especially nice! After that I slowly stripped off my beautiful gloves and, now wearing only my shoes and clamps, lay on the couch lasciviously stroking my clitoris, my face showing clearly how much I was enjoying it. "Just a moment! Don't stop. You look so pretty doing that ..." He vanished into the bedroom, and returned with several long coils of rope. "You enjoy being tied up?" I shivered with anticipation, remembering the lovely feeling of being tightly bound by Bob Williams. I stood, and followed Ken's instructions as he tied my hands behind my back with one end of a rope, then wound the rest of it firmly round me, above my breasts and then below them. The next rope went round my waist, then between my legs twice, kissing the sensitive valleys on either side of my pussy but leaving my cunt exposed and unbound. At every stage he stopped so he could photograph me. I don't know which excited and stimulated me more: the loving embrace of the ropes or the shameless exposure, through the camera's eye, to anyone who wanted to watch. Finally Ken fixed the end of a third rope to the bonds tying my wrists and, holding the other end in his left hand, made me crawl around the carpet, the little silver decorations suspended from my nipple-clamps swaying and tinkling as I went. He urged me on with an instrument of sexual pleasure which I had not experienced before: a kind of switch, a thin flexible cane sheathed in black leather with a sort of leather blade at the tip. As it flickered round my naked bottom I felt great waves of pleasure pulsing through me. "You like that?" he asked as he heard my gasps of delight. "It's not hurting you?" "Oh _no_!" I said. "It's wonderful! _Please_ don't stop!" "What a extraordinary girl you are!" he said, lashing me harder than ever. "I just love whipping girls, and you seem to love being whipped." "Well, of course I do! It feels fantastic! Harder, please ... oooh!" Gradually, with the lead-rope and the switch, he was guiding me into the bedroom. There he helped me onto the bed, still on my hands and knees. The lovely tickling from the switch ceased, leaving my bottom glowing with received pleasure, the warmth spreading through every bit of me. "Now, how about this?" I heard him ask. I opened my eyes and saw a whip dangling in front of my face, not the many knotted lashes with which I was so in love but a single long, thick braid of polished leather. I remembered that Reina had given me a pair of whips like that as part of the equipment I was to share with Masumi, telling me to work up to the pleasure they could give after starting with the simpler toys. But even so, they had been little whips for beginners, I thought - nothing like this long, powerful beauty which Ken was coiling and uncoiling before me now. I felt pride in being promoted to something so advanced, combined with a touch of anxiety that I might not be worthy of it. Ken was murmuring soft words in my ear, urging me to accept the happiness this beautiful instrument could give me. "Yes, yes!" I responded at last, barely able to speak. "Please love me with him!" "Oh, darling ... I love you - he loves you - we both want to make you happy." I felt him get off the bed. Standing beside me, he raised the beautiful whip above his head, stretching its elegant length taut between his hands. Then ... For a tiny moment I could hear the braided leather hiss through the air before it embraced me with its ring of fire. The most wonderful sexual thrill I had ever experienced surged through me. And yet ... was there not something new and different in what I was feeling? A sort of sharp edge - something that my mind had never had to deal with before, that triggered a desire to scream loudly and beg to be spared this cruel treatment? The emotion was so strong that the scream escaped before I could stop it. The whip was rising above me again - I could feel its tickle as it left me and see something of its movement as I lay with my face turned to one side on the pillow. Down it came again with a second white-hot kiss. Again that irresistible urge to scream and beg. The scream was even louder but the plea for mercy was incoherent. Once again the withdrawing tickle, the terrified anticipation, the hiss through the air and the sizzling assault on my bottom. This time, as well as the scream, I heard my voice begging my lover to stop, to spare me the terrible pain. Yes, I suddenly understood as the whip paused, this was the pain I had been told girls experienced until they learned to transmute it into bliss. "I'm sorry ... are you all right?" I heard from above me. But now I could feel only the molten joy which the three strokes of the braided whip had flooded through me. In a moment it would begin to ebb as its source withdrew. "Yes, yes ... oh don't stop!" "Sure?" "Oh, please ... more ... harder ..." Again the braided leather rose and then fell with all the loving strength Ken could impart to it. And the sharpness - what I now knew was pain - had gone. Its kiss flew straight to that part of my mind that dealt in pleasure, in bliss, in ecstasy and drew me upwards towards a heaven I had never known before. He told me afterwards that he had given me fifteen strokes. After that fourth one, the stroke which gave no pain but only happiness, I was incapable of counting - I no longer had any contact with the ordinary world. When it was over, I felt myself floating gradually down till I was deposited with infinite gentleness once more on my lover's bed in my lover's apartment. I was aware of him leaning over me, smiling as he released my wrists from the rope and turned me onto my back. My freed arms were round his neck at once. My inflamed bottom was stimulated almost beyond endurance by the touch of the sheet but I didn't care. All that mattered was expressing the love I felt for this wonderful man who had given me so much more than I had ever known before - more than, surely, any girl had ever known. "Yes, yes, darling," he was saying with a touch of impatient exasperation, "you were wonderful. I never heard a girl scream so beautifully." There was one thing missing from our love and I knew what it was. "Take me. Oh, take me," I begged. "Make love to me like no girl has ever been made love to before." At once he slid down the bed till his head was between my legs. His hands slipped under my inflamed bottom and raised it till my cunt was at a comfortable level for his mouth. Of course the touch of his hands made me quiver and squirm; and when he felt me do that he held me even more firmly, sending great hot spasms through me to mingle delightfully with the pleasure his lips and tongue gave me as he first sipped and then greedily gulped down the liquid pouring from my pussy. He did not stay there long, however. We were both too desperate to fuck to spend any more time on preliminaries. He lay on top as he took me. As soon as his hand had guided his erection into my greedy cunt, I was in his arms as he hugged and held me, his grasp pressing my ropes even more firmly into my flesh. It did not take us long. I already knew the way to heaven: the loving whip had shown it to me only minutes before. And he was as keen as I was - I knew why. I was learning how much a man's lust is stimulated by whipping a victim, willing or unwilling: especially unwilling or skilfully pretending to be. Even so, the journey to our shared ecstasy gave me yet another new joy. I felt as if our bodies were made one - not just the tight, loving embrace which good fucking should always be, but a sensation of every tiny atom of which I was made mingling and merging with all of him. We did not just come together, which as everyone knows is wonderful when it happens. We came as one being, one body, one spirit - and one overwhelming cry of joy. When I came back to reality I was lying on the couch in the living-room, my head on his lap. My ropes had been removed and I was wearing only my high-heels and my nipple-clamps. I could feel his fingers playing lightly with the little metal decorations. "How are you feeling, darling?" he asked; and then, without waiting for an answer, "I wondered if I ought to take these off you too, but they look so pretty ... especially with nothing else ..." "I'm glad you didn't," I said, smiling up at him, "especially if they please you ..." "Well, I think our time's up," he said with a sudden change of mood. "Yes, I must be getting home ..." I said, still lost in my dream of sexual fulfilment. "I'd like us to meet again," he said. "Of course! I'd _love_ to!" "Well, I'll talk to your agency and find a time when you're free," he said. This a matter-of-fact approach brought me back to reality with a jolt. I remembered suddenly that I was not simply a happy girl who had found a new lover and was hoping to be fucked again on a second date. I was a prostitute, a girl who offered herself to be bought and sold. It was what I had freely chosen to be, but in choosing that life I had surrendered the right to look for my own sexual partners. I heaved myself into a sitting position on the couch and tried to look businesslike. "I'd like you to accompany me to a party," he was saying. "That is, if you're not already booked that evening." "Yes, I'm sure that would be all right. Er ... what sort of party?" I was already wondering what clothes I would need to buy or borrow. He looked at me with a slightly odd smile. "Have you ever been to a sex-party? You know, where the girls go nude and are ready to fuck anyone who wants them?" "No ... I never have," I stammered. "But it does sound fun! Will you really take me to one?" "Yes, of course. If your agency will let me have you. Otherwise it will have to be someone else. I'll call them, and if it's all right with them I'll talk to you direct about the details. What you'll be expected to do, what to wear. That sort of thing. I'd enjoy taking you as my date." "What to wear? But I thought you said ..." "That the girls will be nude? Well, yes, but the couple who host these parties like to set a theme. Nothing to get in the way of the fucking, of course, just a little bit of fetish to encourage everyone's appetite. The theme at the next party is harness. I expect you know the sort of thing." I didn't of course, but I knew where to find out. I began to put on my dress. I didn't bother with tights or panties, and deciding not to risk damage to the beautiful gloves folded them carefully and stored them away in my purse. "Would you ..." I held out the strings of the halter for him to take. "Of course. A little loose?" "Yes please." "I like the way you offer everyone little glimpses of your breasts," he said, as he tied the strings in a neat bow behind my neck. "Very pretty." I felt his hands slide under the cloth and stroke me. His fingers played with my clamps, making the little decorations hanging from them sway and tinkle. I leant back against him and murmured with pleasure. Then he pulled away from me. "I hope I gave you satisfaction, sir," I said formally. "Yes. You did. Here, this is for you." He picked up an envelope which had been lying on the table and handed it to me with both hands. It was not the usual cheap brown type but a white envelope printed with the name of his company. I could tell from its thickness that he had been generous - but of course I did not look inside or do anything except express reluctance to accept it. Then I folded it away in my purse, which was now rather full with the envelope on top of my gloves and unwanted underwear. "I'll call you a car," he said. He picked up a house phone which was at once answered by the porter on the front desk. "A limousine for Miss Hanako," he said without preliminary. I picked up the wrap I had been wearing to hide my bare back in the taxi all those hours ago. I felt less shy and more confident now, and just held it folded over my left arm. He took my other arm and guided me out of the apartment. "But there's no need to ..." I protested. "Oh, but there is!" He accompanied me into the elevator. "The limousine is waiting, sir," said the hall porter, standing up and bowing as we passed his desk. The driver had the door open as we reached the street. It was a much more luxurious vehicle than the taxi I had arrived in. I bowed low to Ken - to my client. He bowed too, though much less formally. "See you again," he said. "Yes ... again ..." I murmured. I climbed into the back of the car, swinging my legs in carefully hoping that the driver would not catch any glimpse of my nakedness under the short skirt. If he did, he was too well trained to react. I bowed again to Ken through the window as the car swept me away. I remembered to leave a voicemail message for the dating agency, then concentrated on giving directions to the limousine driver. FOOTNOTES [23] As a foot- and shoe-fetishist myself, I find it interesting that the curved line where the front of a shoe ends is technically known as the neck. Shoemakers have always understood that the extent to which a girl reveals her toes and the cleavage between them can send out subtle sexual signals just as the low neck of a dress does more obviously. - B W [24] I have to admit that Sayaka got that line from me in one of my pompous literary moments: it is from Christopher Marlowe, _Edward II_ (1592-93), Act I scene i line 65. I did not tell her that the speaker, Gaveston, is, like the King, gay and that he is planning a party at which beautiful naked boys rather than lovely nude girls will be available. Still, even allowing for different sexual tastes, I approve of people who plan parties like that! - B W [25] There is much theoretical dispute about the reality or otherwise of female ejaculation. Some medical experts claim that a girl blessed with the ability to gush or squirt in orgasm is in fact urinating, and aggressive Western feminists have stated that gushing is a male myth. Both groups would do better to consult those with practical experience. I have enjoyed Japanese girls who cannot stop themselves gushing as they climax and also Japanese girls who like pissing in my mouth while I am sucking them, and as one would expect the taste of the two - while equally delicious - is quite different. There does however seem to be a connection between the production of the two liquids: the great, and very beautiful, Japanese sex-star Hotaru Akane (now, alas, retired) who is famous for her _shiofuki_ skills is on record as saying that she drinks plenty of water before sex so as to ensure a good flow of ejaculate for her lovers to enjoy. Neither ejaculate nor urine have, of course, anything to do with the thick love-juice which a girl's cunt produces as she is made love to. That sweet nectar is intended by nature as lubrication for the cock as it enters - and pouring it into her attentive lover's mouth is of course one of the greatest treats a girl can give him. The more he sucks, the more she makes! - B W [26] Abbreviation of _penis-band_: Japanese for strap-on. - B W [27] The full story of Kimiko Kobayashi, and how she lost her sexual repression and blossomed into a beautiful fuck-video actress, is told in the book she and I wrote together, _I Am Not Ashamed_. - B W [Next in Part 16: Chapter XVI: I Prepare for a Party] For complete series so far see /files/Authors/Bob_Williams