We Always Do It For Real 22

THE MEGUMI STORIES
BY MEGUMI KATO AND FRIENDS

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

PART 22

CHAPTER XVI

Mr Otani Again

To my great delight, Mr Otani visited Tokyo again from 
Los Angeles, and insisted on taking me out to dinner 
in the restaurant of one of the grandest hotels. Dear 
Matsumoto-san discovered that the restaurant had a 
dance-floor. She provided me with a long, black dress 
for the occasion, with a tight, low bodice, strapless 
so as to show off my ivory shoulders and offering 
discreet support to my breasts so that he could hardly 
help enjoying the sight of them if we should dance. 
The dress had a wide skirt in several rustling layers, 
fairly transparent, hinting at delights to come. With 
my hair up and decorated with silver ornaments, and 
long silver evening gloves, I was pleased with the way 
I looked. Heads turned as I entered the restaurant, 
stifling nervousness by keeping close to Mr Otani and 
taking his arm. Our table was a prominent one, but the 
waiters sensed that we had no time for anything but 
each other's company and left us alone as much as 
possible. 

We talked about my career and what I had done so far: 
he seemed to have seen every photograph and video 
taken of me, released or not. Delicately he asked 
about my difficulties with the flagellation scene, and 
I explained shyly how I had overcome them and was 
learning to accept the whip as one of the most 
thrilling of sexual delights. I found I was 
unconsciously wriggling in my seat as my bottom and 
pussy recalled the intensity of the pleasure they had 
felt. 

Mr Otani did take me onto the dance-floor when we had 
finished our dinner. I pressed my body against him: 
not lasciviously, just savouring the need we felt for 
each other and knowing that the pleasures of the 
evening had only begun. I felt his glance on my 
breasts, and let him know that I felt it and was glad. 
Soon he kissed me lightly, and we left the restaurant, 
the waiters bowing us out, and moved unhurriedly to 
the elevator hall and to his suite in the hotel. 

Standing before him in the drawing-room of the suite I 
removed my dress for him, slowly, luxuriously; and 
then after some show of modesty the tiny glittering 
g-string which was all I had on underneath. Then, 
wearing nothing but my long silver gloves and 
high-heeled shoes, I turned, displaying myself for him 
till I brought him to his feet and felt his loving 
hands caressing my breasts and my eager, moist cunt. 

"Yes, Megumi," he said slowly, "you look delightful 
like that." 

"Thank you." 

"Silver looks good on you. Last time I saw you you 
were in gold." 

"Yes." 

I remembered the lovely gold dress with the deep V 
front in which I had won his attention - and which he 
had so soon removed from my eager body. 

"But I think you need a little decoration, don't you?" 

Without waiting for an answer he moved away from me 
and I heard him open a drawer in the desk. He returned 
with a heavy chain in silver links, a little over a 
metre long, with broad metal cuffs at each end. 

"Don't you think this would look nice on you? I do! 
Put your hands behind your back." 

I obeyed at once, and he quickly fixed the polished 
silver cuffs round my wrists. I heard the locks snap 
shut. Without waiting for his permission I walked over 
to the wall mirror and stood with my back to it, 
twisting my head round as best I could to see what he 
had done to me. The heavy silver links looked good 
against the ivory skin of my back and bottom. I raised 
my hands, turning my wrists in the metal cuffs, and 
stood with the chain taut against my shoulders. It 
felt good too. I walked back to him and posed 
coquettishly, letting the chain move sexily up and 
down my back. 

"A very pretty slave," he said approvingly. "_Are_ you 
my slave?" 

"Of course, Master. I am your slave." 

"You know what slaves do for their Masters?" 

"They obey their every wish." 

"And you know what Masters do to slaves?" 

I had to swallow a few times before I could answer. 
His interest, during our dinner conversation, in my 
problems with my first flagellation scene came back to 
me with painful clarity. At last I said, or whispered: 

"They punish them, when they deserve it." 

"Only when they deserve it?" 

"Whenever they wish. If it is a Master's pleasure to 
punish his slave, it is not for the slave to question 
whether she deserves it or not. It is a slave’s duty 
... her pleasure ... her _joy_ to submit to it. To beg 
for it." 

"Good. And?" 

I knew what he wanted me to say. Perhaps he would want 
it even more if I made him wait - just a little - 
before I said it. I looked down shyly at the carpet, 
and made the chain between my wrists slither across my 
bottom. 

"If it be your pleasure, Master," I said at last, "I 
beg you to punish me." 

"It is my pleasure." 

He went again to the desk drawer and I saw him pull 
something out: a whip with many strands. He brought it 
over to me. 

"Do you know what this is?" he asked. 

I recognised it at once, of course, even though I had 
never yet been pleasured with one. My whippings with 
Ken and on screen had been with a plaited leather 
bull-whip. But I thought it would give him pleasure if 
I pretended not to know what it was. 

"No," I said shyly, as he drew the slim leather lashes 
through his fingers and I tried to count them. "Is 
this what they call a cat-o'-nine-tails?" 

"Yes, indeed, my darling Megumi. Would you like to 
know what it feels like to be punished with this?" 

I felt the juice begin to gather in my cunt at the 
thought of it. My throat was still dry and I could 
hardly trust myself to speak. He began to let the 
strands of the cat tickle my breasts and stomach. I 
looked down modestly and leant a little backwards so 
that they could touch me more easily. They felt so 
soft then, and looked so slim and pretty, but with all 
the power of his arm behind them they would surely 
bite agonisingly into my shivering bottom and thighs. 
I could not find the words to tell him how much I 
longed for their cruel embrace. 

"Will you please, sir?" I begged at last. "Will you 
teach me?" 

Mr Otani smiled down at me, making me wait for his 
answer, and then nodded. He delicately stroked my 
bottom with his free hand, teasing the smooth flesh he 
was about to torment. I felt my skin tremble and 
quiver with a thrilling mixture of anticipation and 
fear. 

"I am so afraid," I said. 

"Afraid of what?" he asked softly. 

"Afraid I will not be able to stand it. Afraid I will 
not please you enough." 

"Don't be afraid," he said, gently, like a father 
reassuring his daughter. "It will be a pleasure. For 
both of us." 

"If it pleases you to whip me, sir, it will be my 
pleasure to receive it," I said, and with a coquettish 
smile turned my back on him, my bottom wriggling 
slightly in anticipation of what was to come. 

I needed no restraints of the kind which held me in 
position when I was to be whipped in the studio. I 
just stood naked in the centre of the drawing-room, 
aroused almost beyond endurance and awaiting my 
lover's attentions. On his instruction I put my hands 
above my head, raising my silver-gloved arms so as to 
keep them out of the way of the whip, holding the 
chain taut between them, and pushing my breasts 
provocatively forward. Mr Otani removed his jacket and 
shirt, standing bare-footed and naked from the waist 
up, the pretty whip dangling from his right hand. 

Even at his loving hands the first few strokes of the 
cat on my bottom were almost unbearably painful. But 
soon the rush of hot pleasure overwhelmed me, and I 
was sobbing and gasping as I implored him to whip me 
more and harder, my arse straining backwards into the 
blows, towards the lash, desperate to receive its 
thrilling embraces. The randomness of the cat's nine 
claws, the impossibility of predicting exactly where 
each would kiss my eager, trembling body, made the 
whipping wonderfully exciting. 

"It would be better if you stood with your feet a 
little apart," said Mr Otani. 

I quickly acted on his suggestion and felt at once how 
the lashes could now, if they wished, curl 
tormentingly round the delicate skin of my inner 
thighs just below my crotch, or even score a lucky hit 
right on my clitoris and on my yearning, soaking 
pussy. 

"Oh, harder, sir, please whip me harder!" I begged, as 
the thrilling, random lashes caressed me 
tantalisingly. 

Almost fainting with pleasure, I was still able to 
find a corner of my consciousness free to observe my 
performance. I was receiving Mr Otani's punishment 
willingly. Of course in the studio it was exciting to 
be quite helpless, to be stretched and tied down 
mercilessly as I usually was before being whipped for 
the camera. But this was much more thrilling: to stand 
here openly, naked, unrestrained, freely of my own 
wish accepting this wondrous torment at his hands. 

There was nothing in the world to stop me lowering my 
arms, walking out of range of his whip, dressing and 
asking the front desk to call me a taxi. _If_ I 
wished - but of course I didn't wish. I was standing 
there because I chose to: I was the one in command, 
while he grunted and sweated for my pleasure. Well, 
let him work even harder. 

"Please whip my breasts too, sir!" I implored him, my 
voice breaking in my excitement. 

Mr Otani laughed as he moved to the other side of me 
and began to aim the cat higher, the slim lashes 
cascading over my straining, erect nipples. What a 
pretty scene that would be, to please my fans! I 
thought, gasping and whimpering under the whip. But as 
the sensation ebbed in my excited hips and thighs, I 
soon had to entreat him to concentrate on them again, 
and as hard as he could. 

"Oh, _please_ hurt me more, sir!" I begged. "Can't you 
whip me in both places at once?" 

"No, of course I can't!" Mr Otani protested. "But - 
yes, I think I know what you want." 

He let the cat fall, and moved to the desk drawer from 
which he had produced it. For a few moments I stood 
neglected, feeling the thrilling sensation disappear 
as I looked sadly down on my beautiful leather 
tormenter, abandoned on the carpet. Then Mr Otani was 
back again, dangling before my eyes two clips in shiny 
silver metal, each supporting a delicate chain. I saw 
him test the spring of the clips on his finger until 
he was satisfied with their tension. They he moved out 
of sight behind me, and suddenly I felt his hands 
reach round and attach the pretty new toys to my 
nipples, slowly letting go as my breasts took up the 
full pressure of the clamps. 

I screamed joyfully as the excruciatingly beautiful 
pain seemed to arc like electricity from my nipples to 
my wonderfully stimulated clitoris, uniting pain and 
pleasure in one lovely continuum. 

"Oh, tighter, tighter!" I implored him. 

"Sure?" 

"Oh, yes, darling, you can hurt me _much_ more than 
that! Please ... oh, please!" 

"These are called butterfly-clamps, Megumi. You see 
the little chains hanging from each one? If I pull 
them, the clamps tighten ... see? You can do it 
yourself if you wish." 

"More, please - oh, as tight as they can go ..." 

I felt him adjust the clamps again, screwing my 
torment up to the maximum, then bend to pick up the 
lash from where he had left it. "Oh, darling Megumi, 
you are insatiable!" he gasped, as he thrashed me 
gloriously with all the strength left in him, the 
cat's nine lashes hissing round my quivering, eager 
body and almost - but not quite - bringing me to the 
orgasm I longed for. 

All too soon it was over, as Mr Otani tossed aside the 
cat and collapsed onto a sofa, laughingly pretending 
to be exhausted as I stood before him ecstatically 
begging him to continue my wondrous torture. Only the 
silver clamps still biting deliciously into my hard 
nipples recalled faintly the pleasure I had 
experienced. I remembered what he had said about the 
little chains. I pulled them, and succeeded in 
increasing the pressure slightly, but they were 
already at their maximum. 

"No, now it's your turn to torment me!" he said, 
pointing to the erect cock bulging through his 
trousers. "Here, let me free your hands." Quickly he 
unlocked my wrist cuffs and threw the chain onto the 
carpet. 

I knew at once what he wanted and knelt naked before 
him, fumbling with gloved hands at his trousers. At 
last I could ease them and his underpants down his 
legs and threw them to one side. I took his wonderful 
erection into my mouth, licking the sensitive 
underside and tasting the salty pre-cum from its 
little hole on the tip of my tongue. I let him have a 
few firm strokes into my throat and out again before 
removing his cock from my mouth. Ignoring his 
protests, I lifted his cock and balls out of the way 
in one silver hand and began instead to probe 
delicately along one of the highly sensitive folds at 
the very top of his thighs. He moaned with delight and 
I moved the point of my tongue slowly to the other 
side of his crotch, stopping on the way to kiss and 
suck his hairy balls, full of the cum which I was 
about to enjoy. Soon I returned to sucking and 
tonguing his erect cock, trying to catch him off 
balance by varying my rhythm without warning. At last 
I was rewarded with a stream of cum which I swallowed 
happily, eagerly sucking and licking the head of his 
cock till there was no more to be had - for the 
moment. 

When he had recovered from his orgasm Mr Otani pulled 
me up onto the sofa beside him, and we lay back in 
each other's arms. 

"My God, Megumi, you were good," Mr Otani said at 
last. 

"I was trying to be naughty, too," I replied 
hopefully. "Was I?" 

"Oh, yes," he said, stretching out on the sofa and not 
really thinking about what I meant. "Naughty but nice, 
as they say." 

"Thank you, sir. Was I naughty enough to deserve 
another whipping?" I asked with what I hoped was 
provokingly shy immodesty. 

"Darling Megumi, do you _never_ have enough?" Mr Otani 
exclaimed. 

I looked down and blushed without at first replying in 
words, my hand reaching for his cock and stroking it 
gently. Then I asked timidly, "Do you enjoy doing ... 
that ... to a girl?" 

"Only if I'm sure she enjoys it too." 

"Oh, but I _do_!" I cried beseechingly. "You know 
that. I don't know why I do, but I do. Please whip me 
again, as hard as you can. I love the pain you give 
me. Punish me for being so naughty - no, punish me 
just because you feel like it. Because you want to. 
I'm your slave. Punish me because it pleases you to 
hurt me, not because I somehow deserve it. That's what 
a slave is for. You told me. I exist to give you 
pleasure and accept whatever you choose to do to me. 
_Please_ be cruel to me. Use me. Hurt me wonderfully. 
Make me scream. Please. I love it ... you ... so much 
... Master ..." 

"Let's try something else!" said Mr Otani, jumping up 
from the sofa, then reaching down with both hands to 
pull me up towards him, the pretty little chains which 
dangled from the clamps biting deliciously into my 
breasts tinkling musically as he did so. Alas, the 
sound reminded him to deprive me of them. Now I could 
pleasure myself only by recalling what I had just 
experienced, and by trying to imagine what was to 
come. 

Mr Otani strode across to the desk and this time 
pulled a cane from the drawer. We stood naked together 
as he showed me how firm yet flexible it was; and how, 
unlike with the cat, each stroke would concentrate the 
pleasure onto a tiny strip of my yearning flesh 
instead of spreading it widely and randomly. As I 
tried to flex the cane in my gloved fingers, I thought 
how beautiful it was in its slender length, and tried 
to imagine how it would feel as it kissed my flesh.


[Next in Part 23: Chapter XVI Continued]

For complete series so far see 
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