Message-ID: <34225asstr$1008997804@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: <dwin2001@yahoo.com> X-Original-Message-ID: <20011221235401.52022.qmail@web20010.mail.yahoo.com> From: Don Winslow <dwin2001@yahoo.com> X-ASSTR-Arrival-Date: Fri, 21 Dec 2001 15:54:01 -0800 (PST) Subject: {ASSM} RP {Winslow} "Mr. Moto Returns" (Part 1) (D/s, M/F, humil) Date: Sat, 22 Dec 2001 00:10:04 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org> Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2001/34225> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: hecate, gill-bates __________________________________________________ Do You Yahoo!? Send your FREE holiday greetings online! http://greetings.yahoo.com <1st attachment, "Mr Moto 1.txt" begin> MR MOTO RETURNS (D/s, M/F) by Don Winslow (dwin2001@yahoo.com) *********************************************************************** *********** AUTHOR'S NOTE: For this story, the author wishes to acknowledge the considerable debt he owes to two esteemed "mc" authors. The author is grateful to Downing Street (see Business Reversal), whose imaginative work always yields delightful surprises, and to Toxis (see Race Queen), whose unflinching vision raises such intriguing possibilities. *********************************************************************** *************** PRELUDE from "BUSINESS REVERSAL" By Downing Street THE STORY SO FAR.Caitlin had been a rising star in the business world, founder and CEO of one of the hottest software companies in the valley. Known for her cool demeanor, her aggressive style, her ruthless determination to succeed, Caitlin was feared by competitors and employees alike. Then one day one of her software designers who was slated to be fired, Oscar Brightman, walked into her office unannounced, a laptop under one arm. To her surprise, the mild-mannered programmer asked her to watch a demo he had designed. She watched, without thought or comment, as the images danced across the screen. Then she dismissed her underling without a word, vaguely puzzled by the strangely euphoric feeling that tingled through her the rest of the day. Caitlin's efficiency began suffering about then. She wasn't getting nearly as much done as usual. Her mind felt soft and unfocused. She had difficulty making decisions. And increasingly she found her thoughts drifting to sex -- sexy daydreams, unexpected images of rampant carnality that kept flashing through her head, like trailers for a feature-length, X-rated movie in which she was the hot and sweaty star. Caitlin would gasp, close her eyes, trying to shake the lewd images from her brain, but they became more vivid every day. She became desperately horny. The office staff noticed the funny changes in the boss' behavior. She was wearing sexier clothes to work, sporting shocking miniskirts and wickedly high heels. Even more strangely, she was coming under the influence of Oscar Brightman who went so far as to move into her office. She found herself at her new desk in tight, revealing skirts, low cut tops and push-up bras. Her hair was now bleached blond, and she was relegated to the role of a lowly secretary -- one whose job it was to wait on Brightman hand and foot. and to look pretty. Confused and uncertain, Caitlin moved as in daze, simply doing what she was told. She was even forced to adopt a humiliating new name -- Kitty-Kitty. And, most astonishing of all, she seemed unable to object to her continued degradation. As Brightman's obedient secretary she spent her days typing, answering the phones, fetching coffee, and providing eye candy for the office. She thought she had hit rock bottom --when the call came in from Mr. Moto. Mr. Moto was an astute investor looking to put money into high-tech companies. When she was CEO, she had gone to him for venture capital. Mr. Moto had politely smiled.and turned her down flat. But all that changed when Brightman took over. Somehow he convinced Mr. Moto to reconsider and the financier had not only agreed to underwrite the firm, but had basically written Brightman a blank cheque. Just to rub her nose in it, Brightman had ordered his new secretary to bring them tea. She could still remember her mortification as she wiggled about the office in a tight, backless sundress, carefully serving tea in fine china cups while Mr. Moto's eyes gobbled up every curve and valley of her superb figure. Brightman hardly looked up from his call to Mr Moto. When he did, it was only to blatantly check out Caitlin's exposed thighs. He waved her over to a chair at one side of the office set up before a computer screen. Long after Mr. Moto's telephone call, the former company CEO sat in front of the computer as in a daze. She was wearing a tight pink sweater with a picture of a kitten playing with a ball of yarn embroidered on the front. Kitten motifs figured prominently in her new wardrobe. Even her underthings had little kittens on them. *********************************************************************** *************** Part 1/3 Kitty-Kat (nee Caitlin O'Reilly) was clearly nervous. As the elevator doors slid closed behind her with a hushed click, she took two steps forward, only to be arrested by the sight of the leggy blonde in the little black dress reflected in the full-length mirrored wall that rose from behind a clump of potted ferns. The brown-eyed girl who looked back at her from under a row of soft even bangs, met her gaze with a questioning look. Her wide, glossy lips were drawn in a tense line. The lurid red of her gleaming lipstick, the heavy makeup, the turquoise eye shadow, and thick eyeliner gave her the look of a high-class whore, an impression she would certainly have given to all those in the crowded lobby, even if she had not been wearing the sexy slip-dress. Kitty-Kat stood there nervously, one hand reaching down to give a final tug to the hem. The skimpy dress had, of course, been Brightman's idea. A backless number that hung from thin straps looping her bare shoulders, the thigh-length mini barely managed to cover the shaded tops of her shiny dark stockings -- and then only if she stood perfectly still. She studied the contoured lengths of her shapely black-stockinged legs in the mirror; the 4-inch pumps, her "fuck-me" shoes -- that was what Brightman called them. The blond girl turned away, took a deep breath, and began her solitary journey down the thickly carpeted hallway to Room 802, walking as she had been taught to -- taking small, mincing steps in the narrow dress and heels. Chin up and leaning forward just slightly so that her rump arched back, she let her hips sway daintily with each step she took. Thoughts of Suki flashed through her head: Sanjuko-San, her mistress for the last three months. How she had admired that marvelous serenity and perfect poise of the lithe Japanese woman. Even though she was quite a bit older than her blond pupil, Suki moved with supple grace, her lean, hard body inevitably sheathed in that shiny deep blue of the lycra leotard that she donned for the lessons in Japanese ways that she sometimes taught to those selected Western women who were sent to her. It was Brightman who had arranged for lessons for Kitty-Kat at Suki Sanjuko's chic dance studio. The private lessons were expensive, but money didn't matter, not with so much at stake. At the outset, Kitty-Kat had been instructed to follow all directions to the letter, promptly, and without question. She was warned to learn her lessons well; she would be punished if she was found to be a lazy or stupid girl. (Now the girl had been called many things, both before, and since becoming Kitty-Kat, but never "stupid". In addition to her law degree from Columbia, she had a BA in women's studies from Cornell, or at least Caitlin O'Reilly had,.although that was long ago, in a different life really). Nevertheless, punished she was, for the least infraction. She had to endure the humiliation of being spanked like a little schoolgirl, and learn to thank her mistress afterwards with a sweet smile on her face. Sanjuko-San was a strict disciplinarian, the training she subjected the new girl to was rigorous: etiquette, deportment, poise and manners, traditional courtesy and respect, and of course, proper acceptance of her new role as "pillow girl," -- mistress to one of Japan's most powerful businessmen. Every detail was gone over. Nor were the blond girl's dress, personal appearance, and grooming exempt from critical scrutiny. Only when she was satisfied with Kitty-Kat's progress in the basics would her demanding mistress introduce the girl to those skills which would make her an expert in pleasuring a man (or woman for that matter, should her master desire it). Kitty-Kat proved surprisingly adept in the arts of making love, and Sanjuko-San declared herself pleased. The younger woman flushed with pride. And now it had all come down to this. Sanjuko-San had reported to Brightman that the girl was ready. She could now be presented to the honorable Mr Moto for his approval. Kitty-Kat was nervous, but ready for the test. She stood before the door to room 802, knocked softly, twice. The door opened to reveal a middle-aged Japanese man in an expensive silk Kimono. He was slightly-built with a high, smooth brow and receding hair that was neatly combed straight back. His face was blankly stolid, with strong lines that spoke to underlying power. His lips were set; dark eyes impassive. But those eyes began to light up as he appraised the tall American beauty who stood waiting to be of service. Seiji Moto looked her up and down, stepped back from the door, and with an almost imperceptible nod of his head bid his guest to enter. Kitty- Kat took two mincing steps forward and bowed from the waist, as she had been taught, a deep, formal and submissive bow, with eyes to the floor. Remembering Suki's instructions, she looked down at the man's shoes, counted to two, and then slowly raised her head, careful to look up from under her long, fluttery lashes and smile politely as she humbly greeted her new master using the Japanese words she had so carefully memorized. "Thank you Master, for allowing me to come into your home. My name is Kitty-Kat and as you can see, I am but a foolish and stupid girl, one who is not worthy of the notice of such an esteemed gentleman as yourself. It would be a great honor for me to be allowed to serve you in any way you might chose." Mr Moto seemed pleased with her limited Japanese and responded, curtly but politely, gesturing her into his room, and closing the door behind her. End of Part 1/3 2001 Copyright, Don Winslow http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Don_Winslow/ <1st attachment end> ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ Notice: This post has been modified from its original format. 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