We_Always_Do_It_For_Real.09

THE MEGUMI STORIES
BY MEGUMI KATO AND FRIENDS

VOLUME 01: WE ALWAYS DO IT FOR REAL
BY MEGUMI KATO AND BOB WILLIAMS

PART 09

CHAPTER VII

How it all Began

I suppose it all started a bit over a year ago, the 
end of 1991 or the beginning of 1992, when I was 
seventeen. I was at high-school then, of course, with 
no idea what I wanted to do in life. I lived alone 
with my mother in a tiny old-fashioned house in a 
fairly poor area of Tokyo. My father had died young in 
a car accident and I hardly remembered him. There were 
just the two of us: my mother had never married again. 
Not that it would have been easy to find a man willing 
to take on a widow with a child. My mother had a small 
pension from my father's company; she managed to make 
ends meet on her own but it wasn't easy. She had a 
talent for selling things and that helped her get 
occasional work: you must have seen the women who 
stand at tables in the household goods department of a 
big store, trying to sell some novelty kitchen item to 
a crowd of housewives. She was good at that but of 
course what she earned was mostly on commission and 
she never knew how much there would be or how long it 
would last. 

There obviously wouldn't be the money to send me to 
university or even to a college. About the only 
subject which interested me at school was English, 
perhaps because it offered a possibility of escape. 
But it looked as if, when I left school in a few 
months, I'd have to find work as an "office lady" in a 
big company, where my job would be to look cute in the 
miniskirted company uniform, make the tea and smile 
nicely at visitors. After a few years, as I began to 
climb the ladder of salary increments, the personnel 
department would start hinting that it was time I got 
married and left, and if I didn't would try to pair me 
off with some hard-working executive in the company. 
Then I would live the rest of my life in a small house 
in a "bed-town" an hour or more outside Tokyo, with a 
husband who came home at midnight Monday to Friday, a 
bit earlier on Saturday, and played golf on Sunday. 
Somehow he would find time to get me pregnant twice, 
and everyone would think I was very fortunate. I 
wasn't very excited about this prospect, but there 
didn't seem to be much alternative and anyway, at 
seventeen, leaving school seemed a long way ahead. 

Or perhaps I'm wrong and it all began much earlier 
than that, when I was twelve, and was starting to 
discover my sexuality. My mother was quite open with 
me, and told me the things she thought I needed to 
know even before I had my first period, so I wasn't 
shocked or upset. But I began to have some strange 
feelings and fantasies. I developed a schoolgirl crush 
on one of the male teachers. I can hardly remember him 
now, and later he left for another school, but at the 
time I could think of nothing else but of how to 
attract his attention. He took no special interest in 
me, either because he never knew how I felt, or out of 
professional discretion. I suppose pubescent girls 
behave like this to male teachers all the time, and 
videos about young schoolgirls being seduced by 
teachers are very popular with girls as well as with 
men, because both can enjoy fantasising about being 
the characters in the story.[5] Anyway, in my case I 
found that the only way I could persuade the man I 
loved to notice me at all was to be naughty in class. 

He warned me several times to behave, but, drunk with 
excitement at having got his attention at last, I 
behaved worse than ever. One day, when my class with 
him was the last before we were dismissed, he told me 
coldly to stay behind. The other girls left the 
classroom giggling and gossiping, knowing very well 
what was about to happen to me. 

"Megumi," he said, "I have warned you several times to 
behave properly in class. You have paid no attention. 
You used to be a well-behaved girl, but recently you 
have become intolerable. Have you anything to say for 
yourself?" 

Well, I could have told him of my feelings for him, 
but that was impossible. I just stared at him, my 
heart beating, aware only that I had at last found a 
way of being alone with him, of winning his whole 
attention. I said nothing. 

"Very well then, turn round." I did that. "Lean over 
that desk and pull up your skirt." 

I felt the chipped wood and peeling paint of the desk 
top against my hot cheek, and hastily lifted the thick 
cloth of my long, navy-blue, pleated uniform skirt 
with both my hands, exposing my bottom in its white 
cotton knickers. In my heightened state of awareness I 
was suddenly conscious - as the teacher I suppose was 
not - of suppressed giggles and light movements from 
behind the door, as my classmates competed for the 
best view through cracks and keyhole. The teacher 
picked up something - from my position, face down on 
the desk, I couldn't see what it was - and held me 
down firmly with one hand while smashing the ruler - I 
suppose it must have been - hard against my covered 
buttocks once, twice ... maybe twelve or fifteen 
times. 

The pain and the shock were at first so great that I 
could hardly even cry out. But my feelings were more 
complicated than that. I was being cruelly punished by 
the man on whom my growing sexuality was fixated. My 
confused mind began to see his cruelty as an act of 
love. I had no idea what that was, but had read and 
heard that it was the greatest pleasure it was 
possible to experience. Very well then, I told myself, 
what he is doing to me is an act of love, so what I am 
feeling must be pleasure. At that moment the pain did 
indeed change to the most intense pleasure, centring 
not only on my red-hot buttocks but also on those 
curious folds of flesh between my legs, and pulsating 
through my whole body. 

When the teacher stopped beating me and told me to 
face him again, I was too confused to know what to 
say. With a little more experience, I might have 
begged him to continue, to remove my knickers and beat 
my naked bottom, giving me the full measure of this 
strange, wonderful feeling. With yet more experience I 
would perhaps have tried to seduce him and learn about 
the true act of love, imploring him to penetrate my 
still hairless pussy. But as it was I could only stand 
before him silent and flushed. 

"If you do not behave better in future," the teacher 
said, "I shall send you for further punishment to the 
Headmaster. Do you understand?" 

That brought me to my senses. Being punished by the 
Headmaster would be a serious business. I stammered 
something about how sorry I was, and he gave me 
permission to leave. The other girls scattered 
giggling as I opened the door. 

I had already got into the habit of exploring my pussy 
and arse in bed at night, wondering at the enjoyment I 
could now get from tickling and stroking them, but I 
had not yet linked these pleasures with fantasies of 
specific sexual activity. That night for the first 
time I imagined myself submitting to being beaten 
endlessly by a strong, handsome father-figure while my 
fingertips produced the unbearable, tingling pleasure 
which I assumed such cruel treatment ought to bring. 
So you see, I was one of the lucky ones: my very first 
masturbation fantasy was about the sexual delight of 
being beaten, based on actual experience. Of course it 
was a very crude fantasy, but then I was still very 
inexperienced. I knew nothing then about the refined 
pleasures of whips, nipple-clamps, delicately 
graduated electric shocks to the clitoris ... those 
all lay in the future. All I knew then was what I had 
experienced that day, a series of stinging blows on my 
knickers from a wooden ruler, but I knew that it had 
done something wonderful to me. That ought to tell you 
a lot about me, and about the way my sensuality was 
going to develop. 

As my fantasy unrolled my fingers began, almost of 
their own accord, to probe into the strange folds 
between my legs. There was a kind of hole there, near 
the little hole I peed from, and it was possible to 
poke a finger a little way inside. That was lovely! 
And there was a funny little hard lump I had never 
really noticed before. I touched it gently. That was 
even more lovely! In my fantasy my knickers had 
vanished, and my cruel teacher was striking my naked 
bottom ever more fiercely and violently, providing the 
cause of the wonderful feelings shuddering through me. 

Suddenly and unexpectedly something tremendous 
happened, and a great fountain of pleasure burst 
through me: my first self-induced orgasm. I had no 
idea what it was, I only knew it was wonderful, and 
somehow caused by my beloved teacher beating me 
fiercely. I shuddered and groaned aloud. 

"Megumi, are you all right?" called my mother through 
the paper _fusuma_ shutters separating our small 
rooms. 

"Yes, mummy, just a pain," I called back after a few 
moments. 

"I told you so, you were greedy at dinner," she 
replied. "Remember next time." 

I was too confused to reply. 

"Try to get to sleep now," she said kindly. 

I took my wonderful new discovery with me into my 
dreams. 

==

My best friend at school was called Kimiko. She was a 
few months younger than me, and her family was better 
off than mine - not rich, but comfortable. Her father 
was a department chief in a car manufacturing company, 
and she was the youngest of three. Kimiko was a 
mistake, engendered when her father got drunk one 
night celebrating his first big promotion in the 
company - or so her mother sometimes said. Japanese 
can be very open about these things, and anyway 
departing from the standard Japanese pattern of two 
children at most had to be apologised for, or at least 
explained. 

When Kimiko's parents let her have a party for her 
seventeenth birthday she kindly invited me and said it 
should be my birthday party too because of course I 
hadn't had one the previous November - my mother 
couldn't afford it. It was a simple affair, just a few 
of our friends sitting around in Kimiko's parents' 
house, eating the special food her mother had cooked, 
drinking soft drinks, listening to records and 
gossiping. While this was going on, Kimiko's elder 
brother came and joined us. His name was Kenichiro, 
but he was always called Ken for short and was rather 
proud of having a name that worked in both Japanese 
and English. 

He was five years older than me and was crazy about 
films. He wanted to be a film director and was 
studying at a specialist college. Maybe it was because 
he was planning to be an artist rather than a company 
executive, but he was more relaxed with girls around 
than most Japanese young men, and I think he had 
agreed to look in on his sister's birthday party 
because he wanted to see if any of her friends were 
worth picking up. 

I don't know why he took a liking to me, but for some 
reason he thought I was cute and talked to me a lot 
that evening. I was so interested to meet someone who 
knew what he wanted to do in life that I must have 
pleased him by being submissive and attentive. A week 
later he called me, having got my home number from his 
sister, and asked me out. We went on a few dates 
together, nothing special, usually going to cinemas 
where classic films he admired were being shown, and 
ending up with a hamburger or something. 

One evening we went to see a famous Kurosawa film and 
the cinema was so full we and a few others had to 
stand along the side. More people joined us and I 
stood a little in front of the others so as to see 
better. Suddenly I realised Ken had has hands lightly 
on my waist. He had touched me before of course but 
never quite like this. It felt nice and without really 
meaning to I moved nearer to him. His arms began to 
hold me closer, and he gradually moved his hands 
gently over my body, caressing my breasts through my 
dress and even beginning to explore between my legs. I 
really liked it and began to move my body against his, 
feeling through his trousers the exciting hardness of 
his cock against my bottom. 

Suddenly I twisted round in his arms and gave him a 
quick kiss before turning back towards the screen, 
letting my head fall back onto his shoulder. His hand 
got bolder and began to work its way down to the hem 
of my short skirt, trying to pull it up and reach the 
top of my thighs. I didn't mind at all, but I was 
afraid that in the dim light someone might be able to 
see what we were doing. I removed his hand and placed 
it instead where he could fondle my crotch through the 
cloth of my dress. 

After a while he whispered hoarsely in my ear: "Shall 
we go somewhere?" 

I knew what he meant of course. Tokyo is full of "love 
hotels", places where a couple can rent a room for an 
hour to enjoy each other in privacy, no questions 
asked. I had lost my virginity a year before in one of 
them. 

At that time one of the national newspapers was 
running a series of "Tut-tut, what are our young 
people coming to, is this the end of Japan as we have 
always known it?" articles. It had been sparked off by 
a news story that groups of school-kids were pooling 
their pocket-money to rent rooms in love-hotels and do 
some sexual experimenting. The police were full of 
disapproval, and fussed because there was nothing they 
could do: young people enjoying themselves on their 
own like that obviously ought to be stopped, but the 
trouble was that if they were over sixteen and doing 
it out of school hours, then they weren't breaking any 
law. 

No one in my group of friends at school had thought of 
doing this before we read the newspaper articles, but 
we thought of it then. Somehow half-a-dozen of us 
scraped together the money to try it out. At first we 
didn't do much more than dare each other to take our 
school uniforms off, and then touch each other's 
sexual parts for a few moments before collapsing into 
giggles; but after a few sessions like that the boys 
got bolder and soon we girls all learnt what it felt 
like to have erect cocks in our cunts. I don't think 
any of us enjoyed the experience much - the boys were 
clumsy and their ideas of how to fuck a girl came 
mainly from the sadistic _manga_ cartoon magazines 
they secretively shared - and after a while we found 
we had better things to spend our pocket-money on. By 
then I had more or less forgotten the crush on my 
teacher, and how I had found pleasure in skilfully 
applied pain - except in continuing night-time 
fantasies which I was a bit shy about enjoying. 

After that we girls tended to stick together in 
giggling groups, sharing what we had found out about 
sex: telling each other about the old men (well, they 
seemed old to us) who rubbed their erections against 
our school uniform skirts in crowded subway trains and 
imagined we didn't know what they were up to; and 
about the dealers who hung about the plaza where the 
statue of the faithful dog Hachiko stands outside 
Shibuya Station, offering money to crowds of 
schoolgirls, out for an early evening treat, for their 
unwashed knickers, which would then be carefully 
packaged to preserve the smells of our sweaty pussies 
and arses and sold to other old men to masturbate 
with. Others were talent-scouts representing companies 
dealing in pornographic photographs: there was quite a 
demand for photos of schoolgirls showing innocently or 
knowingly what was under their school uniform sailor 
suits, or of friends playing with each other. Some of 
my school-friends earned extra pocket-money by taking 
part in these photo sessions. Perhaps I would have 
done so too if any of the dealers had asked me, but 
none ever did. I suppose my tall, skinny 
sixteen-year-old body wasn't yet developed in ways 
that would interest the legions of dirty old men. 

My breasts were beginning to grow, and as I admired 
myself as best I could in the bathroom mirror at home 
I could see that the former gawkiness was filling out 
into a slender beauty. I liked my body: the way it 
looked, and the pleasurable feelings it could give me 
when treated the right way. Before going to bed at 
night I would stand naked in the bathroom, petting 
myself and twisting round awkwardly to enjoy the 
developing curves of breast, buttock and thigh. I 
began a fantasy that the mirror was only one-way and 
that on the other side stood a man silently watching 
me. I did my best to give him a good show as I preened 
and pouted. 


FOOTNOTE

[5] Quite a lot of these videos star real schoolgirl 
Lolitas using their newly developed sexuality to earn 
a little extra pocket-money. But Marucho are careful 
to keep clear of the black market. Of course for the 
videos to be legal the actresses who play the 
schoolgirls must themselves be over eighteen, but some 
of us are very skilful at looking and behaving years 
younger than we really are when dressed in a school 
uniform. 


[Next in Part 10: Chapter VII concluded and Chapter 
VIII: Megumi's Vocation]