We Always Do It For Real.12

THE MEGUMI STORIES
BY MEGUMI KATO AND FRIENDS

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

PART 12

CHAPTER IX

An Application for Employment

The sex-shop where we had rented videos and bought 
kinky costumes stayed open late. Shimizu-san, the 
friendly retired bar-girl who managed it, saw us come 
in, walking hand-in-hand but silently, almost 
embarrassed. This was so different from our usual 
excited chatter that she respected our wish to be left 
in peace for the moment. 

There was, we knew, a section of her little shop 
devoted to whips and related equipment. We had giggled 
over the items in the past, never seriously thinking 
they would have anything to do with our sex life 
together. Now we looked more carefully, mouths dry 
with excitement, not sure where to start. I picked up 
one of the whips at random, trying to imagine how it 
would feel whistling down onto my submissive 
nakedness. Shimizu-san came quietly up behind us. She 
spoke softly, knowing that we were embarrassed as well 
as excited at the prospect of the new experience ahead 
of us. 

"That is a very good choice," she said to me with a 
slight smile, "but -" turning to Ken "- I think your 
young lady might especially enjoy this one." 

She picked out a long whip in plaited leather which 
was lying coiled in the showcase and encouraged us 
both to handle it, showing us how smooth the polished 
leather was, how flexible and yet firm, and letting us 
enjoy the slight creak of the tightly plaited thongs 
and the exciting leather smell as she bent the lash to 
and fro. It was quite similar to the one the villain 
had used on Miss Takahashi at the very start of the 
dungeon scene we had just been watching, and I loved 
it at once, eager to feel its burning kiss on my 
helpless nude body as she had done. 

Our friend was still speaking solemnly, softly, a 
thoughtful guide to a new world of experience. 

"Do you have the costume items to go with it?" she 
asked me. 

"No," I said, barely able to speak. 

"Is there anything you would especially like?" she 
asked, politely including Ken in the discussion. 
"Anything your young lady looks particularly 
attractive in?" 

Ken was tongue-tied. So for a while was I: then a 
vision of Miss Takahashi again came to my rescue. 

"I ..." I cleared my throat and tried again. "I think 
I would like to see a corset. A really, really tight 
one," I continued with growing confidence. "And 
high-heeled shoes or boots. I mean, I have those, of 
course, but something a bit special ..." 

"Fetish shoes, I think you mean," said Shimizu-san 
with an understanding smile. "Not really meant for 
walking in." 

"Is that what they are called?" 

"If you will go into the changing-room and undress, I 
will bring you a selection of items to try." 

As I knew from my previous visits, the changing-room 
was tiny but I disappeared behind the curtain and 
managed to undress without banging against the walls. 
She joined me: there was hardly room for both of us, 
and we had to leave the curtain open. She handed me a 
shiny black corset. 

"I think this might suit you," she said, her eyes 
gleaming conspiratorially. I took the corset and 
pressed it against my bare skin. It felt exciting. 
"Let me help you," she said. I turned my back to her 
and she swiftly fastened the laces. The sudden 
pressure almost took my breath away: I had never 
before worn anything so constricting, so painful, so 
thrilling. 

I looked at myself in the long mirror, then stepped 
into the shoes I had removed when I undressed, then 
looked again. 

"I see," I said thoughtfully after a long pause. 

"Shoes do make a difference, don't they?" she said. "I 
can see you understand that. But I think I can find 
you something even better. What is your size?" 

I told her, and she left me alone for a while, nervous 
but thrilled in front of the mirror. Then she returned 
with a box in her hands. She opened it, and showed me 
a pair of what I supposed must be fetish shoes, as she 
had called them: in shiny black, the spike heels 
impossibly high, the front wide to accommodate the 
stance of a girl forced by the heels to balance on the 
very tips of her toes. They were tiny: I am proud of 
having elegant little feet, but was sure I could never 
get them into anything so small. 

"I don't think I could manage those," I said sadly, 
looking at them longingly, anxious not to upset the 
friend who was opening the door to all these wonderful 
new delights. 

"Try," she said. 

So I did, experiencing for the first time the 
masochistic thrill of being helplessly locked into 
cruelly tight shoes which stretched my little feet 
almost vertically, and loving the straps and chains 
with which Shimizu-san bound them to my slim ankles. 

"They do suit you, my dear," she said. "And I chose a 
size smaller than your normal shoes, that's why 
they're so tight. Nice?" 

"Yes," I breathed, shifting slightly from foot to foot 
and learning to enjoy the wonderful feeling of 
constriction. "Oh, _yes_!" 

"Such pretty, sexy little feet," said Shimizu-san 
dreamily. "And see how sweet your little waist is in 
this corset," she added, as I shyly admired my new 
beauty in the mirror, making me gasp as she pulled the 
laces even tighter. "High heels, little shoes, tight 
corset: that's what a girl _really_ needs ... if she 
wants to please her lover ... _and_ herself."

I was too shy to tell her how much I agreed - how much 
I was loving this painful constriction and longing to 
discover how much more of it I could endure. I was 
just summoning up the courage to ask if I could try 
even smaller - and if possible even higher - shoes, 
when she concluded confidentially, 

"And a lovely whip to make her happiness complete. 
This is your first time with the whip, isn't it?" 

"Yes - I mean, it's only - you know, something I was - 
just thinking about -" I could feel myself blushing in 
confusion and embarrassment. 

"Oh, I promise you, I can see at once that you are 
ready for it. Tell me, how do you feel? When you see 
yourself dressed like this, perched helplessly on 
tiptoe, do you long to feel the tickle of the whip? 
Just the very lightest, tenderest touch of that black 
lash on your delicate skin? Does the very idea make 
you tingle with excitement?" 

I looked up at her helplessly. 

"Yes; oh _yes_!" I whispered shyly. 

"You and your lover have been good customers here, and 
I want you to find the things that are right for you. 
Take the clothes and the whip home for a few days and 
try them out. If they don't work for you, bring them 
back, no problem. If they please you, you can pay me 
then and I'll be able to advise you on other things 
you will enjoy." 

"Thank you," I said softly, my eyes now again on my 
image in the mirror. 

To my surprise she put her arms round me and gave me a 
little hug. "It's nice to think of you learning to 
enjoy these things. You're so lucky to have it all to 
look forward to! I can still remember the first time I 
was whipped."

"Was it so nice?" I asked timidly. 

"Oh, yes!" she said. "When I learned to get it right. 
At first it hurt terribly. I knew it had to be good, 
because other girls had told me so - in whispers, when 
no men were listening. They said once you had learnt 
to feel pain as pleasure, there was nothing like it. 
One day during a whipping session it suddenly came 
right for me, as it has for you." 

"I _hope_ it has," I said anxiously. "I haven't tried 
yet." 

"Don't worry, it will!" She continued with her 
reminiscence. "But I was shy then! I didn't know how 
to ask for it, or what to ask for. But that didn't 
last long. Soon I knew exactly what I liked best, and 
I was begging my lovers for it every night. Just as 
you will." She let go of me. "Now, come outside and 
show your young man how beautiful you are, and then I 
want to talk to you both." 

Ken gasped in amazement when he saw me step blushing 
out of the cubicle, naked in the open shop apart from 
my amazing shoes and corset lovingly constricting my 
feet and moulding my waist. A couple of men idly 
pawing through the racks of pornographic magazines 
looked up in astonishment. I knew they wanted me and 
their desire added to my excitement. Ken's hands 
tightened involuntarily on the long, coiled whip which 
he was still holding. Shimizu-san noticed, and smiled. 

"Seeing her like that makes you want to start whipping 
her at once, doesn't it?" she said. "And she's ready, 
I can promise you that. Now, listen carefully you two, 
because this is important. If you want to enjoy this 
kind of sex properly, you must take it seriously. You 
can't do it casually: it has to be a ritual. It's no 
use you saying, 'Oh, darling, I think I'd like to be 
whipped a bit now, do you mind?' It doesn't work like 
that. You have to accuse your girl of some crime for 
which she will be punished, and she has to plead 
desperately with you to forgive her and spare her the 
whip. Or she has to accuse herself and beg to be 
punished while at first you refuse. Do you 
understand?" 

We nodded, wide-eyed with excited expectation. 

"Then," she continued, "putting on the bondage corset, 
tightening the laces, adding boots, gloves, chains, 
straps - whatever else you use - that has to be done 
slowly and carefully. She should be told to go and 
fetch the items herself. Then before you start she 
must be made to kiss the whip, and either beg for it 
or beg to be spared it depending on the story you are 
acting. Believe me, I've done all these things and I 
know." 

We promised to do what she said. 

"Now go off and enjoy yourselves. Come back in a few 
days and tell me how you got on." She saw me shifting 
shyly from foot to foot. "Are those shoes hurting you 
too much, dear? Shall I help you change?" 

"Oh, _no_!" I replied. "That is - I mean, _yes_, 
they're so tight and they feel wonderful, and I 
couldn't possibly think of taking them off, until 
..." I felt myself blush furiously as I looked towards 
the whip which Ken was still twisting in his hands. 

Before we left the shop I asked Shimizu-san to make 
sure the corset too was bound as fiercely tight as it 
possibly could be, squeezing me with delicious agony, 
and her strong expert fingers soon had me imprisoned 
as I would never have believed possible. She then 
helped me into my own dress to cover the new clothes 
for the short walk home beside Ken. I didn't want to 
say good-bye for a single moment to these thrilling 
new sensations. The constriction of the corset and my 
own excitement made me light-headed: it was the first 
time I had experienced the aphrodisiac effect of 
slight breathlessness. The wonderful new shoes 
permitted me to take only tiny tiptoe steps with my 
elegantly small feet, and I could see at once from 
Ken's arousal how sexy my movements were. I dreamt of 
being on stage, provoking a whole room full of men. 

As I teetered along on my lovely new heels, clinging 
to Ken as he walked slowly beside me, I said 
excitedly, "The moment we get home I want you to tear 
off my dress, tie my hands to something above my 
head - anything will do - and start whipping me as 
hard as you can. And turn on the video camera: I must 
know what it looks like." 

"But Shimizu-san said we had to go through all those 
rituals first." 

"Never mind that tonight, I'm so aroused I shan't need 
it." 

"How long do you want me to beat you?" asked Ken, 
pretty aroused himself. 

"Just go on until the tape runs out," I said. 

Over the next few days we tried out the new equipment 
a lot. Shimizu-san was right: the rituals of 
dressing-up were important, and we bought further 
items of bondage gear. The secret, as I now know, is 
that when a girl deliberately dresses the part her 
desire for the whip becomes intense and the orgasms it 
gives her are overwhelming. At every sex session I 
made Ken help me into my studded leather harness and 
corset while I pleaded with him to tie me up and whip 
me well. He enjoyed doing it, and the whipping brought 
me to such heights of lust that I was able to reward 
him nicely. Of course we videoed our sessions with the 
whip, but none was quite as thrilling to watch as that 
first one - I hanging by my wrists from a hook on the 
back of the door to Ken's apartment, screaming and 
begging as the whip fell again and again on my arse 
and thighs, twisting round of my own wish to receive 
the fierce lash on my breasts and pussy as well. The 
first few strokes had been more agonising than 
anything I could ever have imagined possible, and I 
wondered if I had the strength to go through with it, 
but the memory of Miss Takahashi inspired me: and 
suddenly the miracle happened as it had done when my 
teacher had beaten me years ago. The pain dissolved 
into the most intense pleasure, I felt as if my whole 
body was exploding into desire with every touch of the 
lash, and I was blessed with orgasm after orgasm. I 
wanted it never to stop. 

I loved that video, playing it again and again to 
relive the glory of the first experience. And I 
decided to include an extract in my demonstration 
tape: I could not imagine ever doing it better or with 
more intensity. 

So at last the tape and all the other materials 
required by Marucho were complete, and I sent them off 
with a letter saying how much I was longing to hear 
from them. 

Three weeks passed and then disaster struck. I had a 
reply from Mr Niijima saying that, much as they had 
appreciated my interest and the materials I had 
submitted, they could not consider my application as I 
was under eighteen and therefore not legally allowed 
to work for them. 

"But this is ridiculous!" said Ken, when I tearfully 
showed him the letter. "You're not asking to work for 
them now, you're asking for an appointment for a 
screen-test when you _are_ eighteen!" 

So when I felt better I decided there was nothing for 
it but to approach Mr Niijima direct. I persuaded the 
company to let me speak to him personally on the 
phone. I begged and pleaded. I got him to concede that 
they had evaluated my materials favourably. I told him 
repeatedly that I did not wish to break the law, 
merely to make an advance appointment for a test. At 
last he gave way. 

"So when shall we see you?" he asked. 

"On 17 November," I said firmly, "that is my 
eighteenth birthday." 

I heard a hissing intake of breath down the phone. 
"You are so keen to join us?" Mr Niijima said, 
sounding more disapproving than otherwise. 

"Yes," I said, "please forgive my presumption but I am 
so keen." 

"Very well then, Miss Kato, we shall expect you here 
on the morning of 17 November. Of 1992," he added, 
pedantically. "Detailed instructions will follow 
nearer the time."


[Next in Part 13: Chapter X: Megumi Celebrates]

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