UNFINISHED AFFAIRS 14
THE MEGUMI STORIES
BY MEGUMI KATO AND FRIENDS
VOLUME 04: UNFINISHED AFFAIRS
BY BOB WILLIAMS
ASSISTED BY MEGUMI, CHIYOKO, HANAKO, SAMMY, HIROKO,
NATSUKO, SACHI, MAKI, YUKI AND AYAKO
PART 14
CHAPTER XIV
The Holiday
When I met Ayako - she was at the same school as
Natsuko, but all this happened several years later
and they didn't know each other - I had just had a
stroke of luck with my writing. So I decided to
give her a real treat and invited her, for our
first proper date, to spend a weekend with me at a
rather special resort I had just learned about.
When she heard I planned to write about our
activities there, she said she'd like to do that
herself. So here is an extended piece from the
girl's point of view. I helped her, of course, but
it is very much her own work.
I stood naked in front of the big mirror fixed to the
wall of the dressing-room. I was holding the little
folded card which had been discreetly placed on the
dressing-table, and was reading, once again, the words
printed on it:
Guests are respectfully reminded
that clothing is optional
in all areas of the resort
I had read it several times already since Bob and I had
checked into our suite that afternoon - in fact I knew
it by heart - but I enjoyed reading it again. It felt
good.
I looked at myself in the mirror. I was quite pleased
with what I saw, and hoped Bob would like it too. I
wasn't often able to examine myself full-length and
fully nude. I had quite a nice figure, I thought, with
a slim waist emphasising the swell of my breasts and
arse. To be honest, they needed emphasising. My breasts
were firm but still quite small - at sixteen I supposed
that was only natural. At least the nipples were
rock-hard and wonderfully sensitive. They hadn't always
been - that is to say, they were hard and felt good
whenever I was masturbating or being pleasured by
someone, but not otherwise. Then a few months ago I had
persuaded a lover - a foreigner with whom I had special
English classes - to pay for me to have them pierced.
Now they were decorated with the prettiest silver
rings!
I had read about nipple-piercing in girls' magazines
and had been dreaming about it for ages. The people in
the magazines said it was very important to have the
rings set as far back in the nipples as possible: that
would keep them permanently hard and erect, and leave
the front of the nipples available for "other
attachments". I wasn't quite sure what that meant, but
of course I had taken the experts' advice. The piercer
had recommended a pair of rings with discreetly
serrated edges which tickled delightfully as I twisted
them round and round in their little holes.
I read the notice again. It still gave me a lovely
shivery feeling to know I was permitted to be as nude
as I liked, but it didn't help me decide what to wear
for our first dinner at the resort. Of course the
simple answer would be to wear nothing, as recommended.
In the mirror I took my eyes off my pierced breasts and
critically examined my pussy. I picked up the
nail-scissors and tweezers and carefully removed a few
stray hairs; then slightly trimmed the springy curls
which I had trained into a pretty vee, an arrow
pointing downwards to where I most wanted to be petted
and pleasured. I liked to keep my cunt completely
shaven - my lovers said they enjoyed the way it made me
look and feel even younger than I actually was - but I
don't like the growing fashion for shaving or waxing
all a girl's pussy hair. I think it makes the skin raw
and red just where she most wants it to be soft and
delicate.
Yes, Bob would be pleased if I decided to wear nothing,
I thought. He would enjoy entering the public rooms of
the resort with an excited nude girl on his arm,
showing her off to the other guests. And how _I_ would
enjoy showing myself off, too! But this was the first
evening of our holiday and it would be nice for both of
us to build up our desire just a little longer. Later,
after dinner, we would make love properly for the first
time. So far we had been on just one date: I had let
him play with my bare breasts, of course (he had
_loved_ my rings!) and I had stroked his cock through
his trousers, but nothing more. We both knew what this
holiday was for: sex, sex and more sex, in private and
in public. _Especially_ in public - the nicest kind of
sex there is.
I opened the closets which I had filled with my things
only an hour before. I had brought a big selection of
outfits and equipment which my other lovers had
enjoyed. Mostly they had bought them for me so they
could dress me up the way they liked to see me. That
way I could be sure I looked good in them. One drawer
held ropes of different types and thicknesses. I was
looking forward to showing them to Bob and inviting him
to use them on me. Would _he_ enjoy being tied up too,
and letting me tease him beyond endurance? That would
be fun! I already knew what I most liked my lovers to
do to me - but I still had so much to learn about the
strange things men liked to have girls do to them.
Time was getting on. If I was to wear anything, I had
better decide quickly. Nothing on top, of course: I
was so proud of my beautifully decorated breasts, and
couldn't bear the thought of hiding them. I pulled a
selection of bikini panties out of a drawer. One was
in glistening white satin: yes, that would be nice.
Many guests, I had read in the brochure, came to this
resort on honeymoon. Of course we weren't married -
even if I were old enough, why would I want to be when
the world was full of men I hadn't tried out yet? -
but it would be fun to pretend. I fitted the little
triangle over my pubic hair, ran the narrow band
tightly up the crack in my arse so that it could
hardly be seen, and tied the little bows neatly on
each hip. The ends were long and each had a little
silver weight at the tip, making them dangle
temptingly down my thighs. I flirted with myself in
the mirror. Yes, he would like that, and so would I. I
hunted through the drawer with the ropes, and found a
broad collar of soft white leather. I fitted it snugly
round my neck, and closed it with a steel padlock. I
left the key in the drawer.
Finally, shoes. One of the first things I learnt about
sex with _gaijin_ or western men is that they are
crazy about high-heeled shoes. Because in Japan we are
accustomed to taking our shoes off indoors, we don't
associate sex with shoes the way westerners seem to
do. But one of my foreign lovers used to say there was
nothing, absolutely nothing in the world, so beautiful
as a young naked Japanese girl teetering shyly on
tall, narrow heels. So I always wear them for my
lovers, especially when I'm nude. Or nearly nude, as I
was now - for the moment at least. I had exactly the
right pair to please Bob: white strappy shoes with
thongs to tie round my ankles and slender spike heels
fully thirteen centimetres high. They were a little
too small for me, which gave me an exciting feeling of
slight constriction, and the height made them
difficult to walk in - but I thought Bob would be glad
to support me.[23]
Should I clip a dog-lead into the ring in my collar?
Or even give Bob a whip to carry? Better not. I didn't
yet know whether he had a taste for sadism. Of course
I _hoped_ he had already discovered how Japanese girls
adore being whipped, but he might still need careful
persuasion.
I brushed my hair, scented my breasts and pussy
discreetly, gave my nipples an extra tweak to make
them stand up as erect as they could, and entered the
bedroom.
"You _do_ look beautiful!" said Bob. He was waiting
for me bare-chested, wearing just a pair of jeans and
slip-on shoes.
"D'you think so?" I asked, twirling round in front of
him as well as I could in my treacherous heels. Facing
him again, I reached a hand behind me and ran the tips
of my fingers down my arse, hiding the string of the
panties even more deeply. It's nice to look nude when
seen from the back.
"Shall we go, then?"
"I'm ready!" I said gaily.
It was still quite light and the air was warm, with
just occasional little breezes kissing my nakedness in
unpredictable ways and making me tremble with
pleasure. The stone paths leading to the resort
restaurant were uneven and difficult for me to
negotiate in my heels. I squealed and hung on to Bob,
who took me by the waist. After a while I stopped and
turned towards him.
"Oh, it's so lovely here!" I said.
He held me with one arm while his other hand played
with my breasts, then moved downwards and stroked my
naked bottom. I stood on tiptoes, put my arms round
his neck and kissed him.
"Thank you so much for bringing me here," I said as
our mouths parted again.
A western couple also heading for the restaurant
passed us, smiling at our happiness. I looked after
them: the girl was tall, long-legged, elegant, long
hair hanging down her back and - apart from her heels
- completely naked. Bob too was enjoying the lovely
sight she presented. I brought his attention back to
me, wriggling my breasts and pussy against him.
"Wouldn't _you_ like to be like that?" he asked me.
"Er, nude, you mean? Completely nude?"
"Yes, completely nude. It's allowed here, you know."
"Well, yes - I mean no - yes, of course, but - maybe
later." I pulled myself together and stopped
stammering. "After dinner. Perhaps. When we've had
something to eat."
His hands were still holding me, fondling me. I turned
round in his arms so they could play with my breasts
and stroke my pussy through the scrap of satin which
just covered it.
"I know what _I_ want to eat," he said. "Your pretty
pussy."
"You mean ..."
"Haven't you ever had your pussy licked and sucked ...
eaten?"
I turned round again to face him, and looked up at him
wide-eyed and serious.
"Would you enjoy doing that?"
Of course he would enjoy doing that. Every man does,
and every girl loves having it done to her, dripping
her thick juices into his mouth.
"Surely you've had that done to you often enough?"
"Well, yes, actually," I said, lowering my eyes and
blushing.
"And you've thanked the man by doing to same to him in
return?"
I looked up at him beseechingly, then looked away
again. The problem was I hadn't yet decided how to
present myself to Bob - how he wanted to see me. Of
course this resort was devoted to sexual pleasure and
in accepting his invitation I was telling him I was
ready for a weekend of non-stop fucking and nudity.
But was I an experienced young slut teasing her latest
man, or an innocent schoolgirl trembling on the verge
of sexuality and ready to be taught what it meant?
Which did he want me to be?
"Don't you think it was rather naughty of you?" he was
continuing. "Pretending like that. Being such a little
tease."
"Yes," I said shyly. "Yes - _sensei_," I added
daringly.
"Don't you deserve to be punished for it? Severely
punished?"
I could not speak. My heart suddenly began to pound
and I was breathing fast: he must have felt it. At
last I had the answer to the question I had asked
myself in the dressing-room: yes, he _did_ like
whipping girls! My bottom tingled, as if it was
already feeling the loving kisses of the lash. All I
had to do was let him know how much I wanted him to
whip me, while letting him think he was teaching a
little beginner how to enjoy it.
He was waiting for my answer. I leant my head against
his bare chest, swallowed a couple of times, and
whispered, "Yes. Yes, please ..."
I felt his fingernails scratch gently against the skin
of my bottom, already trembling with excitement and
longing.
"Have you been punished before?"
"Sometimes," I whispered, looking up at his face. "At
school ..."
It was true so far as it went. He bent his head and
kissed me tenderly.
"I'll teach you," he said softly. "You'll love it."
"I'm sure I shall ... if _you_ do it to me. Er ...
whatever it is," I added, looking up at him
innocently.
He kissed me once more, and we started walking again.
"It's so lovely, being here with you," I continued. "I
want so much to be yours. To do all the things you
want me to do ... all the things I've never done."
Well, that wasn't _quite_ saying I'd never been
whipped, but perhaps he would think that was what I
meant. "I have so much to learn," I added shyly.
"Why don't you start by taking off your panties and
being nude for me?"
His fingers, as we walked, were already playing with
the dangling ties. The little metal tips were clashing
prettily together.
"Not _just_ yet, darling," I said.
"But you're _almost_ nude already."
"Yes, but ... there's such a difference between being
almost nude and - you know - fully ... for the first
time."
"But soon?"
"Soon."
"All right."
"Please hold me close. These shoes are difficult to
walk in."
"They must be. Do they hurt?"
"A bit. But I like to wear shoes that fit tightly.
They feel exciting - and make my feet look small and
nice, don't you think?"
"I do," he said. "Later I'll kiss them and make them
better."
"Thank you. I'd enjoy that. I suppose the heels are a
_bit_ high, but I like them like that."
"So do I. I used to know a girl who always wore shoes
with one heel just slightly higher than the other."
"Oh yes?"
"It makes a girl's bottom wiggle nicely when she
walks."
"What a lovely idea!"
When we reached the outdoor restaurant we were quickly
made welcome. Pretty miniskirted waitresses showed us
to a table for two near the little dance area. I
examined their costumes with interest: they were based
on the traditional waitress uniform, black with white
frilly edges and a short skirt held out wide by stiff
petticoats; but the upper part was cut very low to
expose their pretty breasts. I must get a uniform like
that to wear at parties, I thought. A combo was
playing softly. Beyond the dance-floor there seemed to
be some large couches set out. At least, I hoped that
was what they were; it was getting dark and they were
outside the area covered by the lighting. We ordered
our food: something light and a soft drink for me. We
were sitting at right-angles to each other and I put
my hand lightly on Bob's thigh. With the fingers of
the other I absently fiddled with one of my rings,
enjoying the tickling sensation as it twisted round in
the little channel carved out of my nipple.
"Tell me about yourself," said Bob.
"What do you want to know?"
"Everything. Everything about your sexual experiences,
anyway."
"It's so difficult to know where to start ..."
"D'you remember," he said, "when I asked you for a
date and you said you couldn't that night because you
were working?"
"Yes."
"Was it true? Or did you just have a date with another
man?"
"Of _course_ it was true!"
"So begin there. Where were you working?"
"I was working ... working at a ... a strip-club." I
looked up at him. I could feel the blush spreading
from my face and neck all the way down my breasts.
"You don't mind, do you?" I asked anxiously.
"Mind? Of _course_ not! Why should I mind? I'm
delighted!"
"Well, some men ..."
"I wish I could see you strip," he said softly,
smiling gently at me. "I'm sure you do it beautifully
... all the men must enjoy watching you!"
"Well, I hope so. But the main thing is, _I_ enjoy it.
I just _love_ doing it for them."
"And how did you get the job?"
"Well, it's a long story."
"We've got plenty of time, I guess."
I thought for a moment, deciding where to start.
"I suppose it began early one evening in Shibuya. I
was with a group of friends ... walking across the
plaza outside the station. In our school uniforms. And
a man approached me. Asked me very politely if I'd
like to earn little pocket-money."
"Aha!" said Bob. "I thought as much. And did you say
yes?"
"Some of my friends had told me that could happen.
Probably would. They'd been approached already, you
see. And they'd told me the sort of thing they were
asked to do."
"Posing nude? Sex videos? That sort of thing?"
"Yes. It sounded fun - and an easy way of earning a
little money. In fact I was feeling a little sad
because my friends had been asked and no one had asked
me yet. So I pretended to be surprised, and a bit coy,
but I took his business card when he offered it me and
agreed to visit his office the next day."
"And in his office he photographed you - in your
uniform, and then out of your uniform ..."
"That's right!" I said excitedly, "first topless, then
just in panties. And then he asked me - oh, so gently
and politely - if I'd mind taking them off and being
fully nude for the camera ..."
"And you did?"
"Well, I was a bit shocked at first. No, not shocked
really, just shy. But he explained the pictures would
be very artistic. And then I thought, well why not? So
I did! Oh, it felt _so_ good!"
"Then shots of making love?"
"Yes! That was a bit later though ... such a kind
gentle man helped me undress, and stroked and petted
me ... of course I liked the money they gave me, but
most of all I liked doing it. _Especially_ doing it
for the camera. It gave me such a lovely feeling!"
"And when did you start making videos?"
"Quite soon. The people at the company asked how I
felt about it. And I said I thought it would be nice.
Of course I wasn't a virgin."
"No?"
"No. There had been sort of petting sessions in the
school gym after classes: just girls at first, then
some boys joined in ... to start with we just stroked
their cocks, then we learned to kiss and suck them.
Their cocks, I mean. And one day a boy entered me ...
it felt strange at first, and not very nice, but
thinking about it in bed afterwards ... oh, it was
_so_ lovely! And then there was a teacher ..."
"Lucky teacher!" said Bob.
"Oh, I think I was the lucky one. He taught me _so_
much ..."
"Did he beat you?"
I felt myself blushing all over again. I looked up at
his face.
"Yes ... yes ... I told you he taught me a lot ..."
"And you enjoyed it?"
"Oh, I _did_! He was so gentle at first, and then
showed me how it can take a girl to heaven and hold
her there ..."
There was a pause. I hoped Bob was dreaming of doing
that to me.
"Anyway," he said at last, "you made some sex
videos."
"Yes. I enjoyed that. And I was paid more than for the
posing sessions."
"So you should be. Videos of really young girls being
fucked sell at high prices. And they're much better."
"Better?"
"Better than videos of busty eighteen- or
twenty-year-old AV stars dressed up in school
uniforms, I mean."
I giggled.
"Do they do that?"
"Of course they do. But girls like you ... Anyway, how
did you get from there to the strip-club?"
"Well, one of the men who worked at the studio asked
me if I'd ever stripped and been nude in public. And I
said no I hadn't - only in front of the camera. But
then - I couldn't stop myself saying it - I said it
sounded wonderfully exciting and I'd love to try. So
he said he'd help me and he arranged for me to dress
up in sexy clothes from the studio's wardrobe and he
and one of the older girls taught me how to undress
the way men like to see a girl do it."
"_I'd_ like to see you undress," said Bob. "Wouldn't
you like to take those panties off for me?"
I stroked his thigh under the table.
"In a moment I will," I said. "I promise. But there's
something I want to tell you about stripping. How it
feels for a girl, I mean."
"Yes?"
"You see, they call it strip-tease, and the girl is
supposed to tease the men by making them wait till
they're allowed to see her nude. But you see, the one
who is really being teased is the girl. Do you
understand that?"
"I think so ..."
"When I'm up on the stage, with all those men wanting
me and longing for me to be nude, it's _so_ exciting!
And I desperately, _desperately_ want to be nude - oh,
so much! And when at last I am, and I've taken off
even my little panties, it's the greatest thrill! But
you see, the real fun is the teasing. Not just teasing
them, though I enjoy doing that, but teasing myself.
Making myself wait for the thing I most want in all
the world."
"And that is?"
"You know what it is!"
"But I want to hear you tell me."
"Being nude. In public. Being desired and beautiful
and wanted. But above all being nude. To be nude in
front of an audience is the loveliest thing a girl can
experience. Well, one of the loveliest things ... And
that's why I adore teasing myself, making myself wait
for it. Like tonight."
"And are you enjoying teasing me, too? Making me wait,
I mean?"
"Oh, yes!" I said, with a smile.
He stood up, and held out both hands to me.
"Let's dance," he said.
I stood up too, and joined him. The people at the
nearby tables looked at me appreciatively.
"Wouldn't you like to be nude now? Strip for me, and
dance nude for me?"
"In a moment," I said shyly.
He didn't argue. I think he knew I couldn't bear to
wait much longer.
The music being played was slow, and we were alone in
the dancing area. We didn't really dance - just held
each other close and swayed in time with the rhythm.
After a few minutes I turned round in his arms and
leant back against him, slowly rubbing my bottom
against his erection while his hands stroked my naked
breasts and stomach and tickled me between my thighs.
It was time at last.
"Let me dance alone," I whispered.
I took the centre of the dance area, where the
spotlights were concentrated. He moved to the side and
watched me. _Everyone_ was watching me, I now
realised. I danced for them, turning as I showed
myself off from all sides, stroking myself as his
hands had done. I thought of the lucky girl who was
taking my place at the strip-club tonight. Perhaps she
too was now wearing only her tiny panties, smiling
demurely while her excited admirers shouted "Off! Off!
Take it off!" and her own longing secretly whispered
the same to her with even greater urgency. The
audience here would not do that - they were too
well-behaved - but the air was full of the same
intoxicating aroma of lust which at my strip-club
never failed to make me helpless with desire. I had
first experienced it when boys joined us in our
innocent petting sessions in the school gym, and had
sought it everywhere ever since.
My hands were playing with the side-ties of my
panties. It felt just as it always did when I stripped
at my club: as if my hands were moving of their own
volition, and there was nothing I could do to stop
them - not that I wanted to. Slowly, slowly I pulled
the little bows apart as the audience watched
spellbound. It is one of the loveliest moments when a
girl is stripping: that tiny second just before she
gives way to her own overwhelming desire to be
completely naked before her audience. At last I felt
the bows give way and the threads between the cheeks
of my bottom tickle me as they slid downwards. I
turned my back to the audience and let them enjoy the
rear view of my perfect nudity. Then to face them
again, my hands still holding the panties across my
pussy.
"Oh, yes - oh _yes_!" I said, in a voice only those
near me could hear: "yes, I want to be nude for you -
oh, _so_ much!"
And for myself, and for myself! I added silently. I
let go of the panties and let them dangle from the
fingers of my right hand. In the strip-club I like to
toss them into the audience with a happy smile,
telling them I never want to wear them again. I
decided instead to throw them to one side, towards
where Bob was standing. I was fully nude at last!
Offering myself to the lust of my adoring and adored
audience! I was almost faint with happiness and
desire.
How I wished they could _all_ have me - the women too,
if they liked - but tonight was to be my first time
with Bob. I turned towards him, holding out my arms to
him, and as he came towards me saw that he too was
naked. He had discreetly removed his trousers while
the audience were watching me strip, and now his
glorious erection was standing up proudly. I had never
seen it before: only stroked it through his clothes.
For a moment we stood side-by-side, our arms round
each other, while the audience applauded. But then my
hands, again acting as if independent of my will,
reached out for his cock and stroked it tenderly. I
sank to my knees and began to kiss it: not so much
wanting to suck and swallow it (that would come later)
as to love and worship it.
"Get them a bed!" called out a man in the audience.
But a couple of waitresses were already wheeling a
couch from the back of the dance area into the pool of
light. Quickly we climbed onto it, and knelt facing
each other. My hands were still stroking his beautiful
cock.
"Whatever else you do, darling," I said in a small
voice, "promise to finish in my mouth."
"You like that?" he said teasingly.
"I _adore_ it!" I said firmly. "Promise?"
"I promise."
"But do all the other things to me first. All the
things you've been wanting to do to me! How would you
like to start?"
At Bob's urgent request I began by sitting on his
face, looking out over his head towards the audience
as his clever tongue dug deep into my dripping pussy,
left it to swirl deliciously round my clit, and
returned to slurp up more of my juices. His hands were
tight round my waist and mine were caressing my own
breasts - squeezing them, lifting them to show them
off to the people at the front tables, twisting my
rings, pinching my nipples for added pleasure. Soon he
would be doing that for me, I hoped.
After a while he came up for air, lifting me off his
face. I slithered quickly backwards, my wet pussy
leaving a damp track along his chest. At first I just
stroked the underside of his cock with my cunt, but
then I could wait no longer and helped his enormous
erection deep, deep into me, impaling myself on it. I
like taking control of a man, or pretending to -
though it's not something I normally have a chance to
do when fucking on stage. The customers at the
strip-club who join me on the cat-walk once I am fully
nude are masterful and want to show they are in
command. About twenty deep strokes later I fell
forward onto his chest and began kissing and stroking
his face.
"Careful, darling," he whispered, "you'll make me come
before I'm ready."
"Remember your promise!"
"Yes - but there are other things I want to do to you
first!"
Reluctantly I released his cock and moved slightly
forward. His hands grabbed my breasts and squeezed
them hard.
"Oh, yes, hurt me - hurt me more!" I begged.
He pinched my nipples cruelly, making me gasp with
pleasure. Then I began to bury his face in my breasts,
trying to smother him while he licked and bit them,
his strong hands now seizing and digging into the firm
flesh of my bottom. I lifted my chest a little and
started whipping his face with my breasts while he
tried to grab my erect nipples with his teeth. At last
I felt myself lifted.
"The audience can't see properly," he said. "Let's
stand up a bit."
We moved the bed up-stage a little, and I stood with
my back to the audience, leaning forward onto the
cushions, my legs firm and stretched by my high heels.
Bob stood beside me, stroking my bottom, spanking it,
slapping it, slipping his fingers into my cunt,
playing with my little pink rosebud, while I whimpered
and squealed with joy and begged for more. Then he
turned me slightly to one side so as not to block the
audience's view and prepared to enter my cunt from
behind. My juices had hardly stopped flowing since the
moment I had removed my panties and displayed my
perfect nudity, emphasised by my high heels and
collar, and he entered me in a single slow movement.
For a while he was still, just the throbbing of his
cock exciting me; then he began to slide in and out
while I screamed and implored him not to stop. Even in
my preoccupation with my pleasure I could tell that
the audience was excited and pleased with my
performance: one thing I had learned from the
strip-club was the ability to watch myself on stage,
so to speak, even in the midst of the most intense
experience. What was he going to do next? He had said
there were lots of things he wanted to do to me before
finishing in my mouth ... a few minutes ago his finger
had been tickling and probing my little rosebud. A
wild hope entered my mind - would he? I had been
arse-fucked only a few times, and never by anything as
big as Bob's erect cock. It would hurt, but it would
be wonderful ... especially with an enthusiastic and
sophisticated audience to enjoy it with me.
And he did! He slowly pulled out of my cunt, moved the
tip of his cock carefully up my crack, and pulled my
cheeks firmly apart with his strong hands. My rosebud
fluttered and tickled, uncertain whether to open or
close. "Open, you silly thing!" I silently told it.
"Open and receive him! Then close - grip him as tight
as you can. He will _love_ that, and so will you."
At last I felt the tip of his cock pressing against
me, pushing irresistibly into my narrow hole - oh, how
wonderful it was! How I wanted to surrender myself to
his loving lust, to be pierced by his cock for ever! I
could hear myself screaming with desire for him, for
it, for my master. I could tell that our audience were
gathering closely round us, those furthest from the
dance area having pressed forward to where they could
watch my penetration. Slowly, slowly the flaming
sword, lubricated with my own cunt-juice, passed
through the muscular ring of my little anus and
swelled gloriously into the tube of flesh beyond. Even
in my masturbation fantasies I had never dreamed of
such a heavenly blending of pain and delight.
He was in all the way now. I could feel his heart
beating against my back as he held me, and his panting
breath against my neck. He was rocking slowly to and
fro, pulling a little way out then pressing firmly in
again.
"Hold me, darling - hold me tight!" I heard him say.
"Oh, yes, _yes_!"
I forced my anal muscles to grip the invading erection
with all their strength. How wonderful - how even more
wonderful - the friction of his movement felt as he
withdrew and entered, withdrew and entered against the
resistance of my tight sheath.
At last I felt him withdraw completely.
"Oh, no!" I begged. "Don't leave me!"
"I shall come, darling - I shall come."
Suddenly I remembered his promise, the consummation of
our love which I had asked for all those ages of
pleasure ago. Quickly I twisted round and knelt at his
feet as he towered above me. His erection was still
huge and firm: I took it longingly in my hands and
teased the tip with my tongue, drawing it then into my
mouth as slowly and lovingly as it had entered my
arse. I could taste my own juices: it seemed strange
to be licking them and sucking them down greedily. I
could feel his cock throbbing as my tongue caressed
the sensitive underside; then I pulled my tongue back,
stroked the thick shaft with my fingers, and tasted
the tip again. Yes, already there were delicious drops
of pre-cum to enjoy. There was no point in spinning
things out further: his control was on the point of
collapse. My lips and tongue sucked him eagerly,
caressing the swelling tube as the flood of cum began
to force its way up from his balls. Oh, so full - oh,
so creamy and delicious! Every man tastes different: I
had already discovered that in my brief sexual career.
Bob's cum was the best I had tasted. Greedily I sucked
and licked till there wasn't another drop to be had
and his cock at last began to slacken and shrink. I
sat back on my heels while he supported himself with
his hands on the bed, groaning with weakness and
pleasure.
I turned a little towards the audience, letting them
see me swirl the harvested cum around my mouth, then
opening my lips a little so some of the creamy froth
could drip lasciviously down my chin and land on my
breasts. It felt warm and loving. I put up a hand and
let more of the cum dribble into my palm: I held it up
under the lights, watching it slither heavily over my
fingers, then licked the precious stuff up again to
join the part that was still in my mouth. With one
finger I scooped the drops off my chin and added them
to my mouthful. I left the drops which had spattered
onto my breasts: I could see that they were glistening
in the light and I liked the way they looked. Slowly,
slowly I let the rich cum, the evidence of Bob's love
for me, trickle deliciously down my throat.
"Oh, I could live on this!" I said.
Without realising it, I said it aloud. There was
sympathetic laughter from the audience.
"Would you like some of mine?" said a man.
I looked up at him gratefully. I was so glad he had
enjoyed watching me and wanted me. How I love it when
men desire me, and want to give me their lust and
their cum! He was holding his erect cock in his hand
and pointing it at me. _Mine_! I thought proudly. He
had seen me nude, he had watched me fucking: _my_
nakedness and _my_ sexuality had created that
erection. By rights it was mine to do anything I liked
with. But not quite yet.
"Later," I said, my lips still sticky. "I'd love that.
You owe me a lovely mouthful of cum. Don't forget. But
later."
I walked carefully away from the dance area and
through my admiring audience. Before anything else I
had to clean myself up. I was of course still
balancing precariously on the slender heels of my
pretty little shoes, and I was clenching the muscles
of my arse tightly as I walked. I could tell that my
stance, forced by the tight, high shoes onto the tips
of my toes, was adding to the wave of desire I could
feel enveloping me. It always did!
As I made my way cautiously towards the wash-room, two
of the pretty waitresses in their miniskirted and
topless maid uniforms came with me in case I needed
help.
"Ooh, that was beautiful!" said one when we were alone
at last.
"Ooh, you are so lucky!" chimed in the other.
I smiled at them gratefully and disappeared into one
of the stalls. It was equipped in the most modern
style, with hot and cold sprays under the seat to
tickle you delightfully and warm air blowers to dry
you. I spent a long time playing with the buttons on
the control panel. But the two waitresses were still
waiting for me when I emerged, refreshed and ready for
more pleasure. They were holding bottles of lotion and
began to use it on me, their clever fingers petting
and pleasuring me as they smoothed the expensive cream
into my skin. One was soon kneeling and gently
massaging my bottom. As her fingers delicately
approached my arsehole she looked up anxiously,
wondering if she was hurting me. I smiled down at her
and nodded. To my surprise Bob's penetration had left
no pain, rather a lovely sensation of warmth which was
slowly spreading upwards. There was a tickling
sensation, too: not unpleasant, just a reminder that I
had a permanent itch deep inside my bottom which could
be relieved in only one way. Oh, how lucky we girls
are to have _three_ holes always ready to be entered
by our lovers!
"Wouldn't you like to take your collar off?" asked the
standing girl, "just for a moment? So I can massage
your neck?"
"I can't," I said. "My Master has the key."
It wasn't quite true, of course: I had left the key in
the dressing-room of our suite. But it would certainly
be for him to free me from it, or not, as he pleased.
"You are _so_ lucky to have such a wonderful Master,"
she said.
"Does he tie you up, and whip you, and - and do lovely
things to you?" asked the other with a shy giggle.
I didn't want to admit that Bob had not yet whipped
me, and that I was still longing for the moment when I
could shyly beg him to grant me that supreme pleasure.
"What pretty uniforms you wear," I said, changing the
subject.
"Oh, yes!" they both said, eagerly interrupting each
other. "We have different ones for each day of the
week. One day it's a sort of jungle outfit with a
ragged leather skirt and one bare breast. Then we have
bunny costumes, and skin-tight microdresses, and so
on. Today is the French maid day."
"Your breasts look _so_ nice naked," I said
admiringly.
"The wide skirt is nice too," said one; "the stiff
petticoats swish so nicely round my bottom ..."
"And of course the guests can reach up and stroke
me," said the other with a pretty blush.
"Nothing underneath?" I said teasingly.
"Only this," they replied. "Look!"
They leant forward in unison, lifting their wide
miniskirts. I gasped with amazement - and envy. Each
girl had a broad strap of polished leather round her
waist, from which narrower straps descended and passed
tightly between her legs. Fixed to the straps were
dildos deeply inserted into arse and cunt. As I looked
more closely and ran my fingers lightly over the
stiff, shiny leather I could detect a faint humming.
"They are vibrators?" I asked.
"Oh yes!" said one. "We always wear them with this
costume! Then we can never stop thinking about sex
..."
"But the best evenings are when we have a dungeon
theme," said the other eagerly. "The stage is set up
as a prison and girls who have been naughty are
brought on and punished."
"How are you punished?" I asked.
"We're tied up naked to the bars of the prison cells,
and whipped. The male staff whip us - really, really
hard - and the guests watch, and join in if they
like."
"That's not a _punishment_!" I exclaimed.
"No," she said with a charming giggle, "but of course
you have to pretend to be in pain - the men enjoy that
and it makes them want to whip you even harder."
"Mm'mm, lovely," I said: then added, "But if you wear
these belts all evening, especially when you are
looking so pretty in your maid costumes, it must be a
bit frustrating being made to think about sex non-stop
but not being able to have it with anyone, isn't it?"
The two pretty girls looked at each other and giggled
again.
"Well, we have our _mouths_," said one.
"In some ways that's the best," said the other.
"Kneeling in front of a guest and slowly drinking his
cum."
"While the vibrators are driving us mad with desire."
"Keeping us always on the edge of orgasm."
I suddenly remembered that Bob was waiting for me, and
that there were other men too who wanted me. We had a
few moments' fun tweaking each others' nipples to make
them stand up hard and erect, then the two girls
fluffed up their pretty miniskirts, spread wide by the
stiff petticoats, and took me back to our table. I sat
down cautiously on the padded seat. The lovely warm,
tickling feeling in my arse was as strong as ever. I
hoped it would never leave me - that the more the itch
was scratched, the stronger it would become. Bob
smiled at me.
"I'm sorry I was away so long," I said submissively.
"Don't worry. I've been well entertained." He looked
towards the dance area, where several naked couples
were pleasuring each other. "How are you feeling?"
"Wonderful," I said. "You were _so_ good to me ..."
"No discomfort from, you know ...?"
"Oh, _no_! That was the best of all," I said,
wriggling luxuriously on my seat. "You _must_ do that
to me again. Lots and lots."
"I will. It was the best for me too. But not too
often. I don't want to damage you. I want you to stay
the way you are ... so wonderfully fresh and tight."
"Am I? ... Is it?"
"Yes. I was thinking, having your cock squeezed like
that, must in a way be the sort of pleasure a girl
gets from being tied into a really tight corset."
I laughed. It seemed such an odd thing to say. And yet
somehow I understood. A girl's body is sensitive, more
or less, all over - while a man's sensitivity is
concentrated in his cock and balls. So what a man
feels when his cock is expertly fucked must be like
what I feel everywhere. That's why a girl loves to be
pleasured and constricted and - yes - whipped all over
while a man usually doesn't.
I suddenly realised someone was standing beside me. A
tall man, with a huge erection which he was holding in
one hand and pointing towards me on a level with my
face. I looked up, and recognised the man who had
spoken to me at the end of my fuck with Bob. I smiled.
"You said you might like this later," he said. "It's
been waiting for you." He turned to Bob. "I'm sorry,
you'll think this very rude of me - but your little
lady seemed to want more ..."
"That's fine, you have her for a while if you fancy
her," said Bob; then, to me: "Enjoy yourself! That's
why we're here. I'll find something to do." He looked
appreciatively at a nearby waitress, who smiled back
demurely.
My new friend put out his spare hand to me and helped
me from my seat.
"Thank you," I said. "I'd love to. Let's go and do it
where people can watch. That's so much nicer, don't
you think?"
Soon I was on my knees on front of him; his big,
beautiful cock was sliding into my willing mouth as I
slowly - agonisingly slowly - sucked the creamy cum up
from his heavy balls until it spurted along his shaft
and anointed my tongue and throat. My waitress friends
were right. It _is_ the best way - except for all the
other ways!
The pretty waitress was still working on Bob's cock
when I returned to our table. I knelt beside her and
put my arms round her tightly bound waist as she
sucked him. When at last he had come, and she had
drawn every last drop from him, I bent her backwards
on her heels and kissed her passionately. My hair
tumbled over her face and breasts. Our tongues coupled
and we shared Bob's cum, mingled with the remnants of
my lover's and the sweetness of our saliva. She let a
little of her share dribble sexily onto her bare
breasts, but I was too greedy to waste any of mine. I
slid one hand up her skirt and felt again the firm
leather of the straps holding her dildos tightly in
place; she played with my breasts and twisted my
nipple-rings gently through their holes.
"How pretty they are!" she whispered, as we came apart
at last. "I wish ..."
"Why don't you?" I replied. "I'm going to have more
fitted. In my navel ... in my pussy. Just as soon as
I've left school ..."
We kissed again. Her fingers were exploring my naked
pussy, stroking my cunt-lips and making me wet with
desire.
"I want you," I said.
I had never taken this initiative with another girl
before - but I couldn't help myself.
"Why not?" she said, blushing prettily. "That's what
I'm here for. For whatever the guests want me to do -
or want to do to me."
"Are you happy here?" I asked.
"Oh, _yes_!" she said, her ecstatic face telling me it
was true. "It's lovely. And I can never have enough
sex. Er ... can you?"
"No," I said. "No. Never!"
Bob had stood up. Smiling, he reached down and helped
me to my feet.
"Shall we go back to our suite now?"
Before I could reply, my new friend interrupted
hastily.
"Oh, but sir - excuse me, but ... I think the manager
would like a word with you first!"
She guided us up onto the stage and we stood there,
Bob and I naked of course, the little waitress pretty
in her delightful uniform. The manager appeared from
the wings: we had met him briefly on arrival - a
handsome _gaijin_ in his forties, dressed in slacks
and a shirt open to the waist. The band played "pay
attention" music and the audience stopped talking.
"Good evening!" he said. "I won't interrupt your
evening for more than a moment. But before our friends
here go to their suite to be alone together ..." there
was a sympathetic murmur from the audience "... I have
a present for them."
The little waitress, who had gone off-stage while he
was talking, returned with a package neatly wrapped in
shiny white.
"This is something we give to all our young couples.
It's a sort of honeymoon present. We hope it will make
your stay with us even more enjoyable. Please open
it."
He handed me the parcel. Of course one doesn't usually
open a present in front of the giver - that is bad
manners - but as he insisted I began to undo the
wrappings. Inside was a box containing the most
beautiful whip I had ever seen: a ridged handle
designed to be held firmly and nine long, slender
leather lashes: all in pure white.
"Oh!" I said, hardly able to speak for excitement,
"it's _beautiful_! Oh, thank you, thank you!"
The audience applauded as I ran the pretty lashes
through my fingers; and then, with both hands and a
deep formal bow, gave the lovely instrument to Bob. He
lifted it high and shook out the lashes, swishing them
lightly as he smiled at me. They must have been all of
two metres long. I was trembling with desire as I
imagined how their loving embrace would feel.
"Good night!" said the manager. "Enjoy yourselves!"
I noticed he didn't add "Sleep well!" He knew sleep
was the last thing on our minds.
We thanked him and left the stage. I kissed the little
waitress good-bye and slipped my arm gently round
Bob's waist: he guided my feet as I tip-toed in my
slender heels in the darkness along the uneven path.
"You didn't mind my going off like that, did you?" I
asked tentatively. "With that man, I mean?"
"Not at all. I hope you had fun. Watching you gave me
a good erection, and your little waitress friend
noticed and sucked me nicely. Are you going to have
her? I want to watch if you do."
I had hoped this would be the moment to introduce the
subject I was longing to discuss, but we seemed to be
moving away from it. I tried again.
"If I do anything you don't like," I said shyly, "I
hope you will ... er ... teach me."
I wanted to say "punish me", of course, but somehow my
courage failed me. He looked down at me with a smile.
"Oh, yes," he said. "I certainly shall."
Of course we both knew what was going to happen as
soon as he, and I, and the lovely new whip arrived at
our suite. But I left it at that for the moment. I let
my head fall against his shoulder as we walked.
"Ah, it's so nice being nude together. Here in the
open air," I said.
"You say that now, do you? You made me wait a long
while."
"I explained to you. I was making _myself_ wait."
"Are you going to stay nude for the rest of our
holiday?"
"Perhaps. We'll see," I said flirtatiously. "Maybe
I'll wear little things sometimes. Little things to
please you - for you to take off. And little things to
please me."
"What sort of little things please you?"
I hesitated for a moment.
"Do you remember what you said a while ago? About how
tight my, er, you know, arsehole was and how nice it
was for you?"
"Yes, I think so," he said.
"And then you said - I thought it was so clever of you
- you said it must be the same nice feeling a girl
gets from a tight corset."
"Do _you_ like wearing a tight corset?"
"Oh, yes. Yes! If it's really, _really_ tight ... and
wearing nothing else, of course ... except shoes, and
other ... you know ..."
"Other bondage gear? Yes, I'd like to see you do
that."
I nodded, my heart too full to speak.
"I've wanted to fuck you ever since I first saw you,"
said Bob. "Of course. But I'm so glad our first fuck
was in public."
"So am I! I _love_ fucking in public."
"And I love girls who love it."
"You're not jealous?"
"Of course not! I like my girls to be promiscuous
little sluts."
I let out a great sigh of contentment.
"Yes, that's what I am. Ever since I first appeared at
a strip-club ... the manager hadn't told me that as
soon as I was nude men would come up on stage and fuck
me while the others watched. It was _such_ a lovely
surprise! And then I _knew_ that was what I wanted to
do. Always ... without stopping for a moment."
"And get paid for it?" said Bob with a smile.
"No, no ... maybe when I'm old enough to work for
money. For now I just do it for my own pleasure."
Bob stopped and kissed me. His hands stroked my
pierced breasts.
"How lovely you are!" he said. "My _perfect_ girl."
We walked on for a while. A thought struck me.
"You know, it's a funny thing about being nude. It
feels so natural, and nice; and yet ... if we did it
all the time perhaps we wouldn't enjoy it so much."
"Yes, clothes can be very stimulating. The right sort
of clothes, on the right sort of girl."
"And the rules about what we cover up and don't are so
strange. I mean, just now it's quite normal for a girl
to go about in public showing off her legs; but before
it became the fashion if she did that everyone would
say she looked like a prostitute."
"I like a girl to look like a prostitute," he said.
I gave him a little tap on his bare bottom. Just
half-way between a stroke and a slap.
"You would," I said.
"But girls enjoy looking like prostitutes. Secretly.
Go on, admit it."
"Of course we do," I said. "But only when all the
other girls are doing it too."
"Well, I'm glad they're all doing it now. The shortest
possible skirt, the longest possible hair and the
highest possible heels - that's my idea of the perfect
girl, and don't you forget it."
"Or no skirt at all - just the heels and the hair," I
said, tossing my head and skipping a little in my
heels to show what I meant.
"Yes. Better still. But not so easy to introduce as a
popular fashion," he said.
"It's strange, really," I went on. "A girl has three
holes to be fucked in. That's the way nature, the
Gods, made her. It's nice. But somehow we insist that
in public at least a girl must cover up two of her
holes and leave the third one free for everyone to
see. Why is that?"
"I don't know; but it's given me an idea. Why don't we
start a fashion which allows girls to expose any hole
they like so long as they hide the other two? Think of
girls going doing the street with their mouths firmly
sealed with a ball-gag or something like that, and
wearing skirts which are either completely frontless
or completely backless, showing either their pussies
or their arseholes? Can you imagine anything more
delightful?"
I giggled happily. We were nearly at the door of our
suite. As soon as we were inside I went to the
bedroom. In our absence the staff had removed the
coverlet from the big bed and made everything ready
for our night together. I lay back naked on the cool
sheet and kicked my feet in their deliciously tight
shoes.
"Come and fuck me," I said softly. "Please."
Bob looked down at me.
"I'm not sure I can just yet," he said. "Not after
what your waitress friend did to me."
"Beast."
"But I'm sure I can work up an appetite."
He shook out the lashes of the whip.
"Oh, yes ... _please_!" I said. "I'm longing for it.
It's _so_ beautiful ..."
There was no point in pretending not to want it.
Acting coy, and begging for mercy, could come later.
"Do you have a corset with you?" he asked.
"Of course! Shall I put one on?"
"Yes. I think you'd look nice in a corset. That would
give me an appetite all right."
I jumped off the bed and ran to the dressing-room.
From the shelf where I had stored it I pulled out a
little corset in white leather, designed to squeeze my
waist cruelly while leaving my breasts and arse
uncovered. It had a series of silver buckles down the
front, but they were for decoration: the real
constriction came from the long laces zig-zagging down
the back. It was a present from a lover who liked to
see his girl bound as tightly as possible and to hear
her squealing with pain - I mean pleasure. Perhaps Bob
had the same perverted fetish. I hoped so.
I fixed the pretty corset round me as best I could,
then walked demurely back to Bob in my high heels.
"Please make it tighter," I said shyly.
I turned my back, and gasped with delicious pain as
his strong fingers pulled the laces tighter, ever
tighter, round the metal hooks. At last he was
satisfied, and knotted the ends in a double bow.
"May I see?" I asked in a little voice - my breath
came only in tiny gasps now.
"Of course."
There was a big mirror in a corner of the room. I
preened and pirouetted in front of it: I had never
seen myself look so beautiful. Bob stood behind me and
petted me. At last I leant back against him.
"Please whip me," I murmured.
"Not yet," he said.
I turned to him in astonishment.
"Oh, but you _must_!" I said imploringly. "With that
lovely new whip ... with all those beautiful lashes
... and I want it _so_ much!"
"You'll want it even more if you have to wait."
"Beast! I want it now!"
"Of course you do; but I want you to want it even
more. After all, you're mine now and must do what _I_
want."
His strong hands tightened round my little constricted
waist, imprisoning me even more. I decided I liked the
idea of being his submissive slave. I twisted round
and knelt before him - carefully, my corset made
movement difficult - and took his cock in one hand,
weighing and tickling his heavy balls with the other.
"Oh, it's so _big_!" I said, "and so beautiful!" And
then, after a brief interruption, when I could speak
again, "and it tastes so lovely when you come!"
"You like the taste of cum?"
"Well, of course! Every girl does. I just can't get
enough of it."
I knew very well that men love to hear a girl say
that, which was why I said it - don't you think I'm
growing up to be a naughty little flirt? - but it was
true as well.
I was suddenly aware of a strange noise in the
distance. I stood up, walked carefully to the window
and leaned out into the dark.
"It sounds like screaming," I said.
Bob joined me at the window.
"Yes, you're right," he said. "It's a girl screaming.
I expect her lover is torturing her."
The screaming stopped, for a moment, then started
again. I was conscious of other noises in the night.
Somewhere nearby a girl was alternately sobbing and
begging for more.
"Oh, the lucky, lucky girls!" I said softly, then
turned and kissed Bob. "You will torture me too, won't
you, and make me scream in agony like those girls are
doing?"
"Of course, darling, all in good time." He put his
hands tight round my waist and made me gasp with the
sudden pain. "I want you to scream louder and more
beautifully than any of them. Promise?"
"Of course I will. If you promise to make me!" I stood
on tiptoe and kissed him. "I won't let you down.
Everyone here will say, 'How cruel that _gaijin_ is
being to his little Japanese girl - and what a
_fantastic_ time she must be having!'"
He said nothing, but looked down at me in a way that
made me shiver with fear and desire.
"It's so lovely to be here with you," I went on, more
seriously now, "and I want you to do all the things to
me that you most like doing to a girl. I want to learn
all the things you enjoy most. So I can enjoy them
too."
"Some of the things I like are a bit ... you know
..."
"Perverted? But I _love_ perverted sex!"
"Where did you learn that word?" asked Bob, laughing.
"Isn't it right?" I asked anxiously. "I was reading
about it in a series in a girls' magazine and I looked
it up."
"Yes, it's right. Or you could say kinky."
"Kinky," I said, trying it out. "No, I think perverted
sounds nicer."
"The way you say it, it is. But what do you call
perverted?"
"Well," I said, trying to remember the articles
exactly, "I suppose any kind of sex that isn't just
you fucking my cunt is perverted to some extent."
"That gives us a lot of scope."
"Of course, the perverted sex I love best of all," I
went on seriously, and looking at him reproachfully,
"is being tied up and whipped."
"Go on."
"Won't you _please ...?" I begged, looking longingly
at the lovely white leather cat lying on the bed.
"Tomorrow."
"_Tomorrow_? But I can't wait till tomorrow!"
"Yes, you can. It's all part of the pervertedness.
Dream of it. Long for it. Think how much more you'll
love it when I at last let you have it."
"Mm'mm, I suppose there is something nice and kinky
about that," I said, trying to please him by using his
word. "But you won't make me wait too long, will
you?"
"Tomorrow morning. I promise. Think of the appetite
_I'm_ building up. Making myself wait too."
There was something in that. Surely he would whip me
all the harder after spending the night looking
forward to it. It was a bit like the way I teased
myself when I was stripping, making myself, as well as
my audience, wait before at last giving us both the
pleasure of my complete nudity.
"Go on about perversions," he said.
"Is that what you call perverted things in general?
Well, I want to specialise in perversions. When I
start my career. So please teach me all you know about
them."
"Start by telling me about the ones you already
know."
"Well, taking you up my arse. Breasturbating you.
Sucking your cock and drinking your cum," I said. "Of
course that. And having you suck me in return. Did you
enjoy doing that?"
"Loved it," he said. "I want you to sit on my face
again. In just a few minutes. You taste really good."
"Thank you. Of course we did that on stage together.
Are sex and nudity in public perversions? They feel so
nice and so natural."
"Well, I certainly wouldn't want you to stop doing
them," said Bob, "so let's assume they are perversions
and belong in your repertoire. Now," he went on,
stretching out on the bed behind me, "I'm hungry
again. Come and wash my face with your gorgeous pussy.
Let's be perverted together."
"Tighten my corset more first."
"Are you sure you can stand it?"
"I can stand _anything_ ... if it's really kinky."
So then I knelt over him, while his strong hands round
my tormented waist pulled my crotch tightly down over
his mouth and nose. His clever tongue soon brought me
to orgasm and my pussy poured its thick juice into his
greedy mouth. This time I leant backwards, resting my
hands on the bed behind me, so that my anus was easily
available to him: he took the hint at once and his
tongue travelled endlessly between my two holes,
swinging me helplessly to and fro. The ecstasy of my
cunt and anus combined with the agony of the corset
took me straight to heaven.
At last his cock could stand it no longer and we
twisted round into a sixty-nine position: I stroked
and sucked him to orgasm and drank his rich creamy
cum, while he teased my delighted cunt with his
fingers.
==
I was wakened by the morning sunlight streaming
through the open windows. We had not bothered to close
them or draw the curtains: anyone who wanted was
welcome to watch us and share our pleasure. To my
surprise we were still lying head to tail, his flaccid
cock close to my lips and his head pillowed on my
thigh. Then I remembered how we had fallen asleep, in
that position, lips and tongues gently pleasuring each
other. I had been sleeping in my high heels and my
feet felt cramped. I eased my shoes off, kicking them
onto the floor and wriggling my toes luxuriously.
Very carefully I slid out from under the sheet which
partly covered us. I was naked: Bob had insisted on my
removing my corset before sleeping, despite my pleas
that wearing it through the night could give me
delightful dreams of thrilling sexual torment. I
picked it up along with my shoes and tiptoed to my
dressing-room.
I found the key to my white leather collar, removed
it, and treated myself to a luxurious western-style
bath. Then I patted myself dry, made up my face,
renewed the gold varnish on my toenails, and lightly
scented my breasts and pussy. It was time to decide
what to wear for the pleasures of the day ahead.
I had worn white for my first "honeymoon" night. It
would be nice to wear white again: it would match the
beautiful whip for whose kisses I was so longing, and
its white lashes would look pretty blending with white
straps and fetish gear. But on the other hand black
suggested dungeons, bondage, torture - and my aim was
to suggest to Bob the experiences I most enjoyed.
Perverted. Kinky, to use his word.
So black it was: tight black shoes with heels so high
I could hardly manage them, black wrist- and
ankle-cuffs, a high black collar forcing me to hold my
head proudly upright, a halter round my breasts with
silver studs decorating the leather straps where they
crossed. Finally I hung a pretty pair of silver bells
from the rings in my nipples. Should I wear a gag? I
had a lovely one with straps over my forehead as well
as round the back of my head. No: I would invite Bob
to gag me, but leave the decision to him. Probably he
would prefer to leave me free to scream and beg for
mercy. Yes, it would enhance his reputation as a lover
if the other hotel guests could hear me! The thought
made me giggle pleasurably.
I walked back into the bedroom, teetering on my heels,
holding the gag in one hand and letting its straps
dangle behind me. Bob was awake, sitting naked on the
bed. He looked at me appreciatively and reached for
me; but I avoided his hands and made for the beautiful
white whip lying on the table where he had left it. I
picked it up and presented it to him with a bow.
"Now?" he asked. He sounded reluctant. I hoped he was
only pretending.
"Now," I said firmly. "You promised."
"Oh, all right. How about coming in your mouth
first?"
"Whipping first," I insisted, "_Lots_ of whipping.
Then all the fucking you want."
"Come with me, then," he said, scrambling off the bed
and taking my hand. "Nice cuffs," he added as he
opened the door to our suite and led me onto the broad
wooden veranda outside which overlooked the garden.
"Thank you," I said. I'm glad you like them. Is there
anything else you'd like me to wear? Would you like to
gag me?"
I held out the gag and face-mask I had brought with
me.
"No, I think not. You'd look pretty gagged but I'd
prefer to hear you scream."
So I had guessed correctly. But I pretended to be
surprised.
"Are you going to make me scream?"
"Oh, _yes_, darling," he said softly, as he held me
with his free hand and kissed me tenderly. "You will
scream. You won't be able to stop. You will scream so
that everyone will hear you. 'That must be the little
Japanese girl being tortured,' they will say."
"_Ohhh_," I said. "And how they will envy me ... the
girls, at least."
My heart was beating fast and I could feel the juice
gathering in my pussy. This was going to be lovely.
In the middle of the front rail of the veranda was a
broad empty doorway framed with strong beams. In the
sunlight I could see that there were four big
cup-hooks fixed to the verticals, with short ropes and
clips hanging from each. It was a simple rustic
whipping-frame, but it would do. Bob put down the
whip, then positioned me on the top step and fixed the
four clips to my cuffs. When he had shortened the
ropes, I was tautly spread-eagled in the sunshine,
facing towards the lush garden of the hotel. Bob
patted my bottom and gave my nipples a friendly tweak.
"Very nice," he said. "I shall enjoy whipping you like
that. But just one or two decorations first."
He left me for a moment, then returned with items in
his hand I could not quite see. He stood in front of
me and held two little pincers before my face.
"You know what these are?"
"They look like little clothes-pegs."
"Yes; and I'm sure you know how clothes-pegs are used
for sexual pleasure. But these are special. Look how
strong the springs are." He demonstrated, closing the
pegs tightly onto his finger. "And look at the little
metal jaws with their tiny sharp teeth. Do they excite
you?"
"Oh, _yes_! They're beautiful! Where did you get
them?"
"They're made expressly for masochists like you to
enjoy, and sadists like me to use on helpless girls.
You can get them in specialist sex-shops."
"Specialists in perversions?"
"That's right. For sweet girls like you who like their
sex, well, perverted. Shall I put them on?"
"Oh, yes, _please_!"
Delicately Bob opened one of the little pincers and
fixed it firmly over one of my nipples. A great rush
of pain surged through me.
"Is that enough, or would you like the other one
too?"
I was beyond speech. I could only look at him
pleadingly. He took his time, letting the sharp jaws
close slowly, so slowly, over the other hard, erect
nipple. The glorious pain was like an electric circuit
flooding through my body and merging with the flow of
pleasure from my pussy.
"Thank you. Oh, thank you!" I mouthed silently. I want
to wear them always ... always ... I wanted to add,
but couldn't.
"I like my girls to hold their heads up when I whip
them," Bob was saying.
I guessed at once that the other device he was
carrying was a nose harness of some kind. He quickly
inserted the padded hooks into my nostrils, led the
cord over my head and through a metal loop at the back
of my leather collar, then pulled it tight till I was
gazing at the tops of the trees.
"Very nice," he said, knotting the cord firmly. "Very
arousing. Now I shall begin. Do you want to know how
many strokes I shall give you?"
"No," I murmured. "I am your slave. Torture me as much
as you wish."
"You're sure it won't be too much for you?"
"It can't _possibly_ be too much!" I said indignantly.
"Just try and see!"
"Very well."
The lovely new lashes were awaiting me, ready to be
broken in on my soft trembling flesh. Bob took up
position behind me where I could not see him.
"Ready?"
"Oh, ready!" I whispered. "I'm _always_ ready."
For a few moments he teased me by just tickling me
with the lashes: then their full force swished down on
me. Bob concentrated on my bottom, of course, but
varied his angle so that my thighs and my waist also
received their share. The long lashes curled right
round me, and sometimes Bob cleverly used only their
tips on my thighs so that the ends could pass between
my legs and flick their lovely pain at my dripping
pussy. I lost all sense of time as I swayed
ecstatically in my bonds and absurdly high heels. Soon
I began to scream joyfully at every fierce stroke. I
didn't care if I was heard by other guests. I _wanted_
to be. This heavenly place no doubt rang night and day
to blissful screams of ecstasy from tortured girls. I
had heard them in the night: now at last I was one of
them.
All at once, with one part of my mind, I heard voices.
People were approaching along the path to our suite.
Tied as I was I could not see them, but at last they
came into view and stood in front of me: a man and a
girl carrying an elaborate breakfast on two trays. The
man showed little reaction but the girl smiled
broadly.
"Good morning sorrr! Good morning maam!" she said.
Bob kept on whipping, and I kept on groaning,
squealing and begging for more.
"Don't worry sorrr, maam!" she cried. "We'll go round
the side."
There was a little gate in the side of the veranda
railing. They disappeared from my vision and busied
themselves, I supposed, with laying out the breakfast
on the table behind us. Then they returned with just
the empty trays, and bowed.
"Thank you, maam! Thank you sorrr!" said the girl.
"Have a good day!" And then, stepping outside the
script she had learned, "Be happy, maam!"
Bob went on whipping me as if nothing had happened and
I went on screaming and imploring. But even heaven
cannot last for ever, and at last Bob threw the whip
aside and moved close to me. I could feel his erection
pressing urgently against my hot, tormented bottom.
"That was lovely, darling," he whispered in my ear.
"It was lovely for me, too. Heavenly. Must you stop?"
"I can't go on for ever. Now, shall we fuck? Or would
you like breakfast? Or shall I just leave you hanging
here helpless so I can enjoy looking at you?"
"Oh, fuck me, darling. Please fuck me."
So Bob released me from my bonds and my nose harness,
and carried me carefully onto the lawn in front of our
suite. The grass tickled and stimulated my tingling
flesh beautifully.
"Please let me keep my nipple-clamps," I begged.
"Of course. They look sweet on you."
He took me in his arms and thrust his huge erection
straight into my dripping pussy. We were both so
aroused it didn't take us long to come. We did nothing
kinky, but straight sex is good too, occasionally, if
you can find time for it between the perversions.
==
After breakfast, and another session of fucking on the
lawn, we had wandered out to explore the resort's
grounds. Now we were sitting lazily together under a
tree in the big garden: I was half lying between Bob's
open legs and leaning against his bare chest. I was
naked above the waist too, and he was stroking my
breasts and everywhere else he could reach, whispering
into my ears from time to time that I would surely be
more comfortable completely naked. I had on only a
stiff little microskirt, tightly moulded to my bottom
and with a broad leather belt snug round my waist,
which I had chosen to wear on our walk, knowing it
would tease and tempt him even more than complete
nudity would have done. No panties, of course; and
shoes with heels and ankle straps. In fact the shoes
were a bit difficult for wearing in a garden; but I
knew the stimulating effect they had on Bob, and that
was what mattered.
I was looking forward to getting completely nude, but
there was no hurry. For the moment it was nice to lie
within Bob's arms, remembering the morning's glorious
lovemaking. I hoped he was remembering it happily too:
my bottom was still tingling delightfully.
"Let me help you take your skirt off," said Bob for
the umpteenth time, his fingers giving my nipples a
sexy pinch. "We could leave our clothes here and go
for a walk through the woods."
"Later," I replied. "I'm busy."
"What are you doing?"
Of course he could see very well what I was doing, but
I guessed he would enjoy hearing me tell him, and why.
I had brought my beloved whip out into the garden -
the beautiful cat with nine long white lashes which
stung so deliciously as they caressed my eager bottom
- and was tying a series of hard knots into each lash.
I wriggled closer to him so that my bottom could
massage the agreeably hard lump between his legs, and
explained.
"So that it will hurt you more?" he asked teasingly.
"Yes. So that it will hurt me more. So that you can
hurt me more when you make love to me with it."
By wriggling closer to him I had caused my skirt to
move up my bottom and just reveal my crotch, a fact of
which we were both very aware. Bob began to tickle the
outer lips of my pussy; then he took his fingers away
and licked them.
"Please don't stop," I murmured.
He put his fingers back where they belonged, exploring
a little deeper and higher.
"Do you call it making love when I whip you? I like
that."
"Well, of course. It's the best way of making love
there is. For me, at any rate. I suppose it must be
frustrating for you, doing all that work and me
getting all the pleasure."
"I make up for it later. If you remember."
I giggled. I remembered.
"If you take your skirt off we could find somewhere in
the woods for me to whip you. Make love to you, I
mean."
"Later. I haven't finished yet."
"Let me see what you're doing."
I handed him the whip, showing him the lash I was
currently working on. He ran it through his fingers,
then tied the next knot himself, pulling it tight and
hard.
"Like that?"
"Just like that," I said, testing his work with my
fingers. "I'll remember that you made this special
knot whenever it kisses me."
I kissed the hard little knot myself; twisted round in
Bob's arms and kissed him; and then snuggled back into
my original position.
"You remind me of something I was reading recently,"
said Bob.
"Oh yes? What?"
"I'm doing some research into nineteenth-century
English pornography."[24]
"Did they have pornography then?"
"Oh, yes. Some of it is very good. I'm thinking about
working with some Japanese friends to publish a series
of translations."
"Did they whip each other?" I asked, pulling another
knot tight.
"Of course they did! They loved whipping! They did it
all the time. Of course the equipment was less
sophisticated. What they really enjoyed was whipping
each other with birch twigs."
"Really? Was that nice, do you think?"
"They used to cut long flexible twigs from birch
trees, bind them in bundles and whip till they broke
and fell apart. The girls adored it, and kept begging
for more; and the men liked it too."
"Why do I remind you of that?"
"Well, watching you working on that whip, adapting it
so it will hurt you even more ... there's a section in
one of the stories I've been reading."
"Tell me."
"Well, in the story a boy and his girl have just spent
their first night together. They are in a garden, just
like we are. Except that they are wearing clothes. He
is telling her how wonderful she was, and she is shyly
thanking him for everything he did to her."
"Sounds rather tame," I said.
"And he takes her to a birch tree and invites her to
choose the twigs she will be whipped with next."
"That's more like it!"
"So she chooses twigs, just as you are working on your
lashes. Ones that will really, really hurt. Of course
she is very inexperienced and doesn't know which ones
to choose. So he shows her the ones with hard knots in
them ... just like the knots you're putting in that
whip ... and tells her they're the ones she will love
best because of course they will hurt most. And she
feels them with her fingers and blushes and says shyly
'yes', and he cuts them for her. It's a very charming
scene. Then they sit on the grass together, and he
binds the twigs into big, strong bundles. And she
strokes them and kisses them, and decorates the
bundles with pretty pink ribbons."
"That's a nice idea. Does the story tell how he beats
her with them - makes love to her with them, I mean?"
"Oh, yes! They find a private place, she pulls up her
skirts - she isn't wearing anything underneath, you
see - and asks him very prettily to whip her. He
invites her to choose one of the bundles of twigs, so
she does that, and kisses it, and begs him to give her
a lovely whipping with it. Which he does till it falls
to bits."[25]
"Lucky girl!"
"Shall we go to a private place so I can beat you like
he did?"
"Not yet," I said, "I want to finish this first."
"You really want me to hurt you more?"
"Of course! You know I do. I adored the pain you gave
me this morning. I can never have enough. And I can
never forget it was you who taught me."
"I thought it was a teacher at your school who gave
you your first experience."
"Well, yes, and there were others who whipped me. Some
of them were very good. But you have taught me to love
it."
"What does it feel like when I whip you?" Bob asked
after a pause.
"Wonderful! You know that."
"Yes; but I mean, in detail, step by step."
"Well," I said, starting on the next lash, "the first
few strokes - say the first four or five - are
excruciatingly painful. When men did it to me the
first few times I didn't think I could stand it. But
then I began to love the pain because of what comes
next."
"Yes. I enjoy the way you screamed, and then begged me
to go on."
"Anyway, recently I've found I love those first few
strokes more and more. Not just because of the way
they bring me to the threshold of pain and pleasure.
But for their own sake. For the pure pain they give.
It's beautiful."
I pulled another knot tight and hard. Another lash
finished: two more to do. Then I could ask Bob to try
out the improved whip on me. It was a good moment to
suggest something I had been thinking about for some
time.
"I'd like to ask you ... it would be nice if you would
stop for a bit after those few opening strokes. You
know, pull me back. Don't let me pass the threshold.
Make me experience the pain again. And again ... and
again ... and then push me over into pleasure when you
want to. Make it your gift to me. Make me wait for
it."
My heart was beating fast and I could feel my pussy
flooding with nectar. I could hardly find words to
explain what I wanted. But Bob understood.
"Would you really like that?"
"Oh yes! You do understand, don't you?" I added
anxiously.
"Sure. But it would hurt you terribly."
"Oh yes!" I said again. "Wonderfully."
"Shouldn't we set a limit at first? Or have some way
you can tell me you've had enough?"
"Don't be ridiculous!" I said indignantly. "You don't
understand at all. Not knowing how long it will last
... fearing it might go on for ever ... that's what
will make it so incredibly exciting."
"All right. Four or five strokes ..."
"... Very, very hard ones ..."
"... Then a pause to bring you down again. Then some
more strokes, then stop again. Just when you are about
to cross the pleasure threshold. Then again ... and
again ..."
"That's right!" I said. "Just pain, agony. Pure.
Beautiful. And not knowing how long it will go on."
"It sounds very sadistic."
"Yes. Oh, yes! Utter bliss! Pure perversion."
Bob licked his fingers.
"You know, there's a lot of lovely cunt-juice going to
waste here."
"Well - just thinking about it ..."
"Yes, I know - but I hate waste. Why don't you sit on
my face for a while?"
I scrambled up and helped Bob lie on his back on a
comfortable patch of grass near the tree. Then I
pulled my tight little skirt up round my waist - well,
it was more or less there already, of course - and
knelt either side of his head. Some drops of juice
pattered onto him. I began carefully lowering my
crotch over his face.
"While I'm sucking you," he said before it was too
late, "you can go on telling me what it feels like to
be whipped. You know, crossing the threshold, and what
happens next."
Then his mouth was fully occupied kissing and licking
my pussy, his hands firmly on my waist under the
little skirt, his tongue digging deep into my
love-hole and slurping up the juice which had gathered
there. After a little while I decided to give him an
extra treat, and without warning - the way I knew men
liked it best - I began pissing into his open mouth. I
felt rather than heard his shout of welcome, and his
hands pulled me even more firmly onto his face, his
mouth clamping itself to my pussy and pee-hole as if
it were stuck there for ever. I could feel his throat
muscles swallowing rhythmically.
Of course at my age my experience is limited, but now
I have got to know Bob better I believe he is unusual
in his gourmet approach to sex. He loves the flavour
of young Japanese girls' pee - much nicer, he says,
than that of older girls which can be harsh and
bitter. And of course much more delicious than the pee
of Western girls. (He once said Korean girls' pee
tasted of garlic, but I wonder if he wasn't making fun
of me.) And of course he adores the taste of
cunt-juice - but that's natural enough. I adore the
taste and aroma of cum, and am doing all I can to
sample lots of different varieties and try to identify
the subtle differences.
Suddenly, after my flow of fresh piss had come to an
end, I felt him pull a little away from me and ask me,
in a thick croak, to tell him more about whipping. I
sat firmly down on his face.
"Silence, slave!" I commanded. "No talking! Suck!"
He obeyed me, and I rewarded him by telling him what
he wanted to know.
"Well, once I'm through the pleasure/pain threshold,
then of course every stroke of the whip gives me the
most incredible pleasure. But it's not just pain which
has turned into pleasure. It's pain _felt_ as
pleasure. It could become pain again at any moment,
and that's what makes it so thrilling. Do that
again!"
The tip of Bob's tongue was scooping round and over my
clitoris, making it erect itself helplessly and
sending delicious spasms of pleasure right through me.
"That's right, like that. And of course the whipping
sends me up, up into a sort of unearthly paradise and
keeps me floating there. It's like an old-style top
being kept spinning. It can easily stop. Does stop,
when you get tired of whipping me. But somewhere in
the centre of that paradise I know there is perpetual
bliss. One day I'll find it. Then I'll never come back
... What are you doing?"
Bob had altered position, pushing my bottom forward
over his face; he had somehow formed the tip of his
tongue into a hard point and was entering the muscular
ring of my anus.
"Oh, _yes_!"
He was persuading me, in the best possible way, that
what I really wanted was a good fucking. His mouth was
back on my crotch now, his tongue deep inside me,
sucking up the new flow of liquid his stimulation of
my clitoris and anus had inspired. But I was
determined to finish my work on the whip first. I
looked round as best I could without breaking the firm
bond between Bob's mouth and my aroused, dripping
pussy. The whip was lying sprawled on the grass, just
within reach. I somehow managed to get my fingers to
one of the lashes, and hauled it in. Holding it now by
the handle, I put it behind my back and let the lashes
brush teasingly over Bob's bare chest. I felt rather
than heard an "mm'mm!" sound vibrate deeply inside my
cunt.
I brought the whip round to my front again, identified
the two lashes which had not yet been improved, and
quickly tied the little knots, pulling them as tight
and hard as possible. It did not take long: I knew
very well that I had deliberately spun out the task so
far, teasing myself - and Bob - by postponing the
whipping and fucking which would follow. But I
couldn't wait any longer. I pulled my crotch away from
Bob's mouth, stood up, and helped him to his feet.
"That was lovely," he said, licking his lips and
wiping a hand over his glistening mouth, "but it
didn't last nearly long enough."
"Do you really like sucking my pussy so much?" I
asked, for the twentieth time that weekend.
"You know I do. You taste delicious. And thank you for
the piss. That was a lovely surprise."
I looked down modestly.
"Help me take my skirt off," I said.
Of course I could easily have taken it off by myself,
but I knew he would enjoy doing it for me. He put his
arms round me from behind and slowly undid the tight,
broad belt. Then he knelt before me and pulled the
tiny skirt down my thighs. He kissed my neatly trimmed
cunt hair and looked up.
"Ready, darling?"
"Oh yes," I said. "I've been ready for ages."
"Why didn't you say so?"
"I wanted to tease you. You like being teased, don't
you?"
"Yes. And so do you, you little pervert."
He was out of his jeans now, his cock beautifully
erect. My hands reached out for it.
"Oh, your darling cock," I said, "Wouldn't you like to
fuck me first?"
"Whipping first, then fucking," he said firmly.
"Of course, Master," I said submissively. "Let's go
and find a nice place for you to tie me up. You have
brought some ropes, haven't you?"
He picked up a small shoulder bag which had been lying
under the tree, and looked down at me with a smile.
"And ... and please remember what you promised."
"What about?"
"About ... you know ..."
I could hardly continue. I was about to commit myself
to the most exquisite torment I had ever enjoyed. It
was all my own idea and I could only hope I could
stand the agony. There would be no going back.
"About stopping and starting again ..." I managed to
croak out. "Not letting me cross the threshold ..."
"You really want me to do that? Again and again?
Torment you till you beg for mercy? Except we both
know you won't?"
I nodded in dumb supplication. He took me and kissed
me, one hand lightly tickling my bottom with the tips
of his nails, the other suddenly squeezing my nipple
fiercely.
"Oh, that was lovely!" I said when I had got my breath
back.
"What a sweet little masochist you are!"
"Of course," I said. "All Japanese girls are
masochists."
"Nearly all," he corrected.
"Well, some just haven't yet discovered the truth
about themselves. They love pain really. They just
have to learn."
"Yes," said Bob. "And it's my job to teach them.
That's my missionary work."
Both fully naked now, we walked together into the
woods in search of a suitable spot where I could be
bound between the trees and subjected to new
refinements of exquisite pain. My pussy and arsehole,
damp with Bob's saliva, fluttered eagerly in the fresh
air; but it would be a long while yet before they
could be penetrated as they longed to be. I had the
beautiful whip in my hand, its loving lashes dragging
lightly along the grass. I was on my way to be
tortured ... tortured slowly, ever so slowly, into
Paradise. I longed for it more than I had ever longed
for any sexual experience before.
It wasn't difficult to find a suitable place. We came
to a big tree with a horizontal branch about three
metres above the ground. Someone had thoughtfully
fixed a pair of short chains to the branch, ending in
big steel rings. Bob put down the bag he was carrying,
opened it, and produced black leather cuffs. I
surrendered my lovely whip and held out my hands as he
buckled the cuffs firmly round my wrists. Then he
looped short lengths of rope between my cuffs and the
rings hanging from the tree, and shortened them till I
was standing tautly, my feet just able to take my
weight as I stood in partial contact with the ground.
Bob took another rope and tied my ankles firmly
together, then wound the rope round my legs before
tying the ends at the level of my knees. I was now
completely helpless, and trembling with desire.
"Torture me, Master - oh, please torture me," I
murmured.
"Soon, darling, soon. A little decoration first."
He held before my eyes the pair of special masochist
nipple-clamps, the ones he had used on me earlier that
morning. He attached them tenderly, the fierce little
jaws biting lusciously into my erect nipples.
"Ohh, lovely! Ohh, thank you, Master!"
"Now kiss the whip."
"Of course. Before it kisses me."
He held it to my lips, and longingly, lovingly, I
kissed each darling lash in turn.
"Please give me a good whipping. A _lovely_ whipping.
The most wonderful whipping you ever gave anyone. Like
that girl in the old story you were telling me about
..."
He disappeared from my line of vision, and I felt his
fingers stroking the trembling flesh he was about to
torture so beautifully. Then at last it came.
"Swish ..."
The most erotic sound I know: the tiny moment before
the whip strikes, caressing and loving me.
"Ohhh!!"
The supple leather lashes bit into my arse, enhanced
by the flashing golden points of extra pain from the
little hard knots I had worked so hard to add to their
beauty.
"Swish ..."
Again; this time with all Bob's strength. The pain was
the most extreme I had ever felt; it flooded through
my yearning body, pure and not yet blended with
pleasure.
Another short pause; another agonising stroke from the
nine knotted lashes; and then again. I could sense the
pain/pleasure threshold ahead of me: it was almost
within my reach and I longed for it so ... a fifth
stroke would send me, screaming with joy, through the
gateway ...
It didn't come. With a refinement of cruelty - which I
somehow remembered, in another life, having devised
myself - Bob let the lashes fall; I floated sadly back
to earth.
Three more times Bob subjected me to this refined
torture, taking me to the edge of bliss and then
refusing to let me cross it. I was completely
helpless: I had not agreed with Bob how many times he
would repeat the process, nor of course were we using
cowardly devices like "safe" words. I had started on a
journey which I was powerless to stop. I suddenly
realised that this was the most extreme form of the
self-teasing which I enjoyed so much: making myself
wait for the moment when I finally became nude in a
public performance, keeping myself unsatisfied and
holding back from the ultimate sexual gratification
... The fifth time Bob at last relented and allowed
the lovely whip to take me all the way to the heart of
Paradise, to that infinity of bliss and pleasure which
I know is where I belong.
==
"Would you like me to go in costume tonight?"
"What sort of costume?"
"Well, I could dress as a schoolgirl ... or as a Roman
slave-girl ..."
I was thinking of the pretty waitresses and their
daily change of costume. Last night they had been in a
modified French maid uniform with naked breasts and
miniskirts. What would they be wearing tonight? It was
resort policy not to tell the guests in advance: it
was meant to be a surprise. Would tonight be the
dungeon theme my friends had told me about, and if it
was, would I be allowed to volunteer for punishment?
"Well, you're my slave-girl in any case, aren't you?"
Bob was saying, petting me and playing with my
breasts.
"Yes Master ..." Suddenly I had an idea. "You remember
what you wanted me to wear last night?"
"Nothing at all, you mean?"
"Yes ... you'd like that, wouldn't you?" I asked,
tickling his balls with the tips of my fingernails and
smiling coyly up at him.
"No teasing? Of yourself or anyone else?"
"No ... completely nude ... nude, nude, nude for
everyone to see and enjoy." I was dancing and twirling
round the room now in pure happiness. I came to rest
again in his arms. "Of course that means I'll have to
be fucked by anyone who wants me, like I am when I'm
nude at my strip-club. Fucked, fucked, fucked ...
again and again while everyone watches!" I started
dancing round the room again. "Oh, I love it! You know
the wonderful thing about being nude at a strip-club?
It's being surrounded by all those beautiful
erections! They're mine, mine, mine! I _made_ them by
being a sexy nude girl! They weren't there before I
made them! So they're _mine_ and I won't leave till
I've fucked every single one of them!" I snuggled into
his waiting arms again. "You won't mind, will you?" I
asked anxiously.
"Of course not."
"Oooh, it's making me wet just thinking about it."
"So it is. We've got plenty of time - come and sit on
my face."
"Mm'mm, yes! I'll hold you hard so you can't escape!
You'll be my prisoner and have to suck me and lick me
for _ever_!"
"Lovely. But don't let's be late for dinner. You'll
want plenty of time to show yourself off nude and give
yourself to everyone."
"Oooh, yes! But you want me to sit on your face first,
don't you?"
"Of course. I just said so. Do you need anything to
drink first, or are you ...?"
I knew what he meant.
"No, I have plenty."
I made him wait for it all the same. On his
instructions I sat on the bed, his neck and shoulders
resting on my crossed legs and his face buried in my
pussy. By bringing my knees and feet closer together I
was able to imprison him, holding his mouth tightly
against me while his hands on my waist and hips pulled
me even more firmly into the close unison we both
loved. He licked and sucked me until at last I let
loose the golden stream and let him gulp down the warm
liquid in great mouthfuls - so delicious, or so he
always said. Then he thanked me by teasing my clit and
pussy and arsehole bringing me to orgasm after orgasm
- or was it one continuous orgasm? I could hardly tell
and I didn't care.
How nice it is for a young girl like me to have this
skilful, thoughtful older man always at my disposal to
do all the things to me I love best - and to teach me
to love so many other things. He is so generous! He
makes me come repeatedly and comes so little himself.
The least I can do in return is please him, like by
going nude at dinner tonight.[26] One day, when I have
started on my career as an AV idol and sex performer I
shall have lots and _lots_ of lovers like him, but I
shall never forget the good time we had this weekend -
nor all the other good fucking and whipping we shall
enjoy, I hope, when we return to Tokyo.
"Oh, that was _so_ good!" said Bob, as at last we came
apart. "I wish we could do that for ever!"
"But your poor cock!" I said remorsefully, gesturing
at his splendid, and neglected, erection.
"Never mind! It will get plenty of action later. But
sometimes it's so nice just to lie here and worship
your lovely pussy. And still have the fucking to look
forward to."
I just giggled, blushed and didn't argue.
Of course I didn't go to the restaurant totally nude.
I wore pretty high-heeled shoes, snugly fitted the way
I like them to show the elegant curved arch of my
little feet. Then, just in case they were needed, I
locked black leather cuffs set with strong D-rings
round my wrists and ankles. I brushed my hair and
checked that my pussy hair was still neat and
enticing. Then I was ready.
"How nice you look, Maam!" said my little waitress
friend as she welcomed us to the restaurant.
"So do you," I said. "What's the theme tonight?"
"We call it 'The Disco'," she said.
The waitresses were all wearing very tight, very short
_bodikon_ dresses in different colours, outlining
their pretty figures perfectly. It was obvious that
they were wearing no panties. In their microdresses
and slender high heels they looked just like the
pretty, provocative girls who go to Tokyo discos,
flaunting their sexuality as they dance. The effect
was charming and I could see Bob's erection
responding.
I ate very little and soon the girls were inviting me
to join them on stage.
"May I? Oh, _please_ may I?"
"Don't worry, Aya-chan," said Bob. "Go and enjoy
yourself. I'll come and have you later."
"Aya? Is that your name? It's nice!" said one of my
companions. I recognised her as one of the girls who
had helped me clean up after my public display with
Bob the previous evening.
"Well, Ayako in fact," I said.
"Such a pity you won't be here tomorrow!" she
continued. "We'll be doing 'The Dungeon'. We'd have
invited you up on stage for _that_."
"Will you be one of the girls being whipped?" I asked
politely.
"Oooh yes! We drew lots to decide who was to be
punished, and I was one of the lucky ones!"
"I'll be thinking of you," I said.
I certainly would, I reflected, lying lonely and
unsatisfied in my narrow bed at home in Tokyo.
We were all up on stage by now, drawing appreciative
attention from the audience. The sound system started
playing loud, fast disco music. To begin with I had
the thrill of being the only nude girl on show, but
soon the other girls began to strip, their tight
dresses peeled off and thrown aside as unwanted.
We started dancing vigorously to the music, shaking
our breasts and bottoms to the rhythm. Some of the
lady guests climbed up onto the stage too, either nude
already or undressing quickly as they joined us in the
dance. Cameras flashed, roving spotlights caressed our
nakedness, and the men gathered where they could look
up at us. We danced more and more provocatively, the
girls at the front of the stage high-kicking so that
their admirers could get a good view of their pussies,
glistening with the cunt-juice called up by the
lascivious atmosphere. I was completely possessed by
the sexiness of the dance, and wanted desperately to
be fucked.
Suddenly I saw one of the girls jump off the stage
right into the arms of a naked man. Others did the
same, and of course I was one of them! I targeted a
man and leaped on him with a cry of "Oh, fuck me!
_Fuck_ me!". He leant back in his seat and seized me
round the waist, quickly sliding me into position so
that his erection could enter me. I fucked him fast,
keeping up the rhythm of the dance, and soon I was
back on stage, my eager pussy now glistening with more
than just cunt-juice. Again and again I leaped on my
willing victims, perfecting the skill of landing on
exactly the right spot to drag their cocks into my
hungry cunt. I felt empowered, capable of fucking
every man in the world. I could never, never have
enough of this sublime experience. Sex, I thought, is
what I am made for, and sex is what I want. Sex with
great crowds of men, their huge erections teased
beyond endurance and taking their turn as my three
greedy love-holes impale themselves on their cocks and
drink their rich cum. I never want it to stop. How
could I, when I can never have enough?
But after about an hour the vigorous dance came to an
end and the music was replaced by something slower and
more sensuous.
"Look, Aya-chan is wearing cuffs!" the girl called out
to the others. "We must tie her up! You'd like that,
wouldn't you?" she asked me anxiously.
"Of course!"
The others wheeled forward a sort of padded table and
I lay down on it, my face to the ceiling. They tied my
wrists and ankles to the corners so that I was tightly
stretched. At once they started petting and stroking
me, pouring lotion over me, playing with the rings
piercing my nipples, and running their fingers in and
out of my cunt and arse as they dabbled in the mixed
juices of so many men. Now I too had a series of tasty
pussies sitting on my face and fitting firmly over my
mouth, making my partners squirm and squeal with
pleasure as I tried to do to them the lovely things
Bob did to me.
Soon I was at the bottom of a pile of wriggling
slippery bodies, feeling as if every tiny bit of me
was orgasmic. Of course I couldn't see easily what was
going on elsewhere on the stage, but Bob told me
afterwards that most of the audience, men and women,
had joined in, the men fucking the waitresses or each
other's partners and enjoying the pretty sight of
multiple sexual joy all around them. Sometimes they
pulled out of their partners just in time to spray
their cum over the heap of femininity sprawled over my
table, adding their cream to the lotion in which we
were delightedly sliding and slithering.
At last I heard a voice I recognised speaking softly
in my ear.
"Aya-chan, do you think your friends would let me have
you now?"
Of course they did, releasing me from my bonds and
following excitedly as Bob led me to an unoccupied
corner of the stage.
"Do you want me to clean up first?" I asked anxiously.
"I'm all slippery with lotion and ... and ..."
"No, no - I'd like to have you like that."
So Bob took me standing up, then leaning forward
against the wall, then clinging to him with my arms
and legs: his strong erection sliding in and out of my
slippery holes as my body gleamed in the light and my
audience cheered and urged us on.
At last I fell to my knees on front of him and slid
his juicy slimy cock into my mouth. It took him
several lovely minutes, but at last his glorious cum
spurted against my throat. After rolling it
deliciously round my mouth, I let it all drool
sluttishly onto my chin and pour down to mingle with
all the other liquids coating my breasts.
==
"I have a surprise for you," said Bob as we walked
slowly back to our suite. "Something to help you
remember our last night."
"Oooh! What is it?"
"It's a _surprise_. I told you. Wait and see."
Inside our room was a large object hidden under a
sheet.
"May I see?" I begged.
"Not yet. Go and take a shower. Make yourself
beautiful. Wear cuffs and your sexiest high heels.
Nothing else. Bring some ropes."
"Ropes? Ooh, yes!"
I showered as quickly as I could and returned with a
big selection of ropes. Bob had removed the sheet from
the equipment, and I stood beside him looking at it.
It had two square frames almost as tall as me, with a
heavy horizontal beam linking the two.
"Have you ever ridden a pony before?" asked Bob.
"Not like this," I replied dubiously. "Where did you
get it?"
"I borrowed it from the hotel management. They have
all sorts of equipment for guests to use."
"What does it do?"
"You sit in the middle," said Bob, "with this beam
between your legs. It's triangular, you see, with the
edge upwards."
"Will it hurt?" I asked, with a mixture of anxiety and
excitement.
Bob took me in his arms and kissed me tenderly.
"Oh yes, Ayako, it will hurt. It will hurt terribly.
You will _love_ it. And I shall love watching you ride
it, and listening to you scream and beg for mercy. I
won't let it stop till you beg for mercy, you know."
I immediately determined that nothing would make me
beg for mercy. However great the torture I would stand
it. I longed to be forced to stand it.
"Are you ready?"
"Oh, yes!"
"Stand in the middle facing this way." I swung one leg
over the beam. "Now lower yourself till you are
sitting on it."
The sharp serrated edge of the triangular beam fitted
snugly into my crotch and stimulated my pussy. Bob
took a long rope and knotted it firmly round my waist:
then he tied the other end to the frame in front of
me. Then he made me lean back - back till my shoulders
pressed against the frame behind me and my arms
dangled over it. He tied my wrist-cuffs to the frame.
Then he pulled my feet well back and did the same with
my ankle-cuffs. I was now bent into a curve - almost
into a complete circle.
"Very nice," said Bob. "Just a little decoration ..."
He clipped wires to the rings piercing my breasts, and
tied a rope to my hair pulling my head well back till
I was gazing at the ceiling. That rope too he fixed to
the rear frame. Then he took from the bedside table
the pretty nipple-clamps I had worn for my whipping
that morning, and gently fixed them to my nipples just
over the rings. Once again I felt the luscious bite of
the metal jaws.
"Oh, how lovely!" I said to the ceiling.
My toes were still just in contact with the floor. I
felt myself being lifted on the beam as Bob turned an
old-fashioned crank. All my weight was now pressing
onto the beam embedded in my crotch. Leaning backward
as I was I could feel it in my arsehole as well as my
pussy.
"Now," said Bob, "this is an old-fashioned torture
device which was used to get confessions out of girls.
Or to give the torturers some fun, I expect."
"_And_ the girl being tortured," I managed to say.
"Yes, exactly. The victim must have enjoyed it more
than anyone. That is why it was so silly to subject
Japanese girls to sexual torture. They would say
anything to keep the torture going, they loved it so
much. Anyway, in the old days the girl's best friends
were forced to work the mechanism, under threat of
being tortured themselves if they didn't do what they
were told and do it properly."
"What fun they all must have had!" I said.
"But now of course the machine works on electricity.
In a moment I will turn it on. I think you will enjoy
it. I know _I_ will. When you've had enough, just tell
me."
"Rubbish!" I said. But not aloud.
Well, I expect you can guess what it felt like when
Bob plugged in the machine. The heavy beam vibrated
between my legs, varying at random between different
movements and intensities. Electrical circuits hidden
in the edge of the beam delivered deliciously random
shocks to my arse and cunt and, through the wires
clipped to my rings, to my breasts. Add to that the
increasing pain of my arched posture stretched on the
machine and you can imagine the exquisite torment I
enjoyed.
I screamed, of course. Screamed joyfully and with all
my heart. I was proud to show my happiness to Bob and
to anyone who could hear me through the open window.
And of course I never wanted this blissful torture to
stop.
After about an hour - Bob told me later it was, I had
lost all sense of time - I saw movement above my head.
Focussing my eyes, I saw that Bob was leaning over me.
"Having fun?" he asked gently.
"Oh, yes, _yes_!" And then anxiously, "Don't turn it
off! Oh, _please_ don't! It's so marvellous! I love it
so!"
"No, of course I won't. I love it too - watching you
being tortured and enjoying it so. But I want to get
some sleep, and so do other people. So I'll just ..."
I realised he was holding the ball-gag and face-mask I
had shown him earlier. He quickly slipped the gag into
my mouth, then fastened the buckles tight round the
back of my head.
"There! you look even more delightfully helpless like
that. And I'll just ..."
He tightened the ropes binding my wrists and ankles to
the pony's frame, increasing the agonising pain in my
thighs and shoulders even further. I think he also did
something to the mechanism, increasing the power of
its vibration and electric shocks. He bent over me
again and kissed the tip of my nose where it emerged
from the thick straps binding my face.
"There! Sleep well, darling, Sweet dreams."
And he was gone.
Sleep, indeed, I thought. How can I? And how could I
bear to miss a second of this? But somehow I did
sleep, or at least faint or become unconscious. In my
dreams the pony became a real live monster, carrying
me across the world and through the air, torturing
every millimetre of my tingling body, raping me
gloriously, filling my every hole with huge white-hot
cocks, as it bore me to heaven.
Once again I woke to morning sunshine. I was still
bound to my beloved mount, but the mechanism had
stopped and the mask had been removed from my face.
Bob kissed me, his tongue lapping the accumulated
saliva from my mouth.
"Oh, don't stop!" I begged. "I haven't had _nearly_
enough!"
"Darling Ayako," he said, "you are the most fantastic
girl I have ever known. If I could I'd leave you on
this machine for ever. But we have to think about
breakfast, and packing, and boring things like that."
He released me from the torture machine and supported
me to the bathroom where he helped me wash.
"Time for a fuck," he said, when I had eased my stiff
muscles and refreshed myself.
He carried me to the bed and laid me out there. It was
a beautiful, straightforward fuck: his lovely cock
visited all three of my holes and finished in my
mouth.
"It's been a lovely weekend," I said, as I enjoyed my
second breakfast, this time of fruit and toast. "I
wish it could have lasted longer."
"So do I."
"But I have to get home before my parents do. They'll
expect to see me there looking like a good girl in my
school uniform, doing my holiday tasks. School starts
next week."
"Will I be able to see you then?" asked Bob.
"Yes - I was thinking about that while I was ... you
know, tied onto that lovely machine. Some of us meet
after school at the gym. We could meet there."
"Will I be allowed to? I don't want to get arrested
for hanging around a school."
"No one will notice. We have an arrangement with the
caretaker."
"How nice for him."
"We have a little club. We call it the Rock-Hard
Club." I looked at him and giggled. "I expect you can
guess why. The club's been going for years at my
school. On Tuesdays we invite our boyfriends and show
them off to the other girls. You won't mind that, will
you?"
"I'll do my best not to let you down. When shall I
come?"
"The first Tuesday after school starts. A lot of girls
will be there for the first meeting. We have fun. You
know ... mostly lesbian, of course, but you'll enjoy
watching and joining in, won't you?"
"Thank you. I'd love to come."
"It's the only thing I can do to thank you for this
weekend. And - er - there'll be a little test. Just to
check you meet our standards. But of course you'll
pass all right."
There was a funny look on Bob's face which I couldn't
quite understand. I dismissed it and began to think
about which girls I would invite to help me put him
through the test, and all the things we should do to
him while he was helpless and at our mercy.
FOOTNOTES
[23] For any girl who may be reading this: my advice
is that choosing sexy shoes is a difficult art
requiring a lot of practice. I like to wear shoes that
are just a little too small: not so small that they
hurt me (I don't get a sexual thrill from _that_ sort
of pain) but constricting enough to reduce the
blood-flow and give me the tingling feeling known as
pins-and-needles. Sandals or covered shoes? Most men
like strappy sandals which leave your feet almost
naked; but some like the court style - and if they do,
they probably like the front of the shoe (what
shoemakers call the "neck") cut low to show a glimpse
of the cleavage between your toes. And of course
_every_ girl should learn to wear the highest possible
heels. They make your legs look great, suggest that
you are a helpless prisoner unable to run away, and
drive men _wild_ with lust!
[24] Victorian pornography is a fascinating study. A
good place to start is a magazine called _The Pearl_,
which appeared from July 1879 to December 1880 with a
final issue dated "Christmas 1881". It includes some
very enjoyable serial novels. Complete sets are easily
available in reprints and on the internet. In some
ways our great-great-grandfathers' tastes were
different from ours: they liked their girls fatter and
with more pubic hair, for example. But their
literature contains delightful and vivid descriptions
of whipping, oral sex, slavery, nude sex-parties and
so on. - B W
[25] This charming ritual, which occurs often in
Victorian pornography, is based on real life. In his
enjoyable and often stimulating study of Victorian
sexuality _The Worm in the Bud: The World of Victorian
Sexuality_ (London, 1969), Ronald Pearsall describes a
Mrs Walter, who advertised "a respectable chastising
service for unruly daughters", using "a strong narrow
table, straps (waistband with sliding straps, anklets,
and wristlets), cushions, and good long pliable birch
rod." The victim would be required to bring the
instrument herself from where it was kept, kiss it
reverently, and beg to be given the best possible
whipping. Afterwards, her sensuality on fire, she
would again worship the instrument and, on her knees,
prettily express her thanks and beg the gift of
another lovely whipping soon. When a whipping had been
promised in advance, she might be required to
construct her own birch bundle from a quantity of
twigs provided. Clearly an "unruly" daughter was one
who had been detected in early experiments in
masturbation, and the service provided by women like
Mrs Walter was to ensure that she experienced the
delights of the whip and the cane just at the right
time for them to become an essential part of her
sensuality. - B W
[26] This is nonsense, of course! Obviously men come
less frequently than girls; but we have the pleasure
of constantly looking at them, enjoying their
sexuality, watching the effect they have on other men.
I think girls are at their most beautiful when they
are coming, and helping them come is my hobby. A very
well rewarded hobby, I may say! - B W
[Next in Part 15: Chapter XV: Megumi: The Hundred-fold
Curtain]
For complete series so far see
/files/Authors/Bob_Williams