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Message-ID: <48979asstr$1093421412@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: rache696@yahoo.com (Rache)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: Wed, 25 Aug 2004 04:55:07 +0000 (UTC)
Subject: {ASSM} Turning Japanese Pt.1 (M+/F, F+/F, Dog+/F, Humil, Reluct, BDSM, Body Mod, TG, WS, Best, Drug)
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Date: Wed, 25 Aug 2004 04:10:12 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Story Codes: M+/F, F+/F, Dog+/F, Humil, Reluct, BDSM, Body Mod, TG,
WS, Best, Drug

Copyright 2004 by rachael K. Ross all rights reserved. This story may
be archived/reposted to FREE ault access provided my name, email
rache696@yahoo.com and this notice appear in the message text. This is
a work of fiction and any resemblance to actual persons or events is
strictly unintended.

This story has been seperated into two parts for ease of posting to
ASSM. This is part 1 of 2

-0-0-0-

Turning Japanese (Part 1)
by rachael

When my company transferred me to our Tokyo office, as part of our
cross-cultural management integration process, I wasn't looking
forward to it. I was a 25 year old woman, fresh out of Harvard with my
MBA and, truth be known, I was looking forward to settling down.
Working 9 to 5 and maybe even finding a boyfriend. I'd been so busy
during college I hadn't had time for dating, even though I am very
attractive and had plenty of offers.

My appearance makes me really stand out in Japan. Beyond the obvious
of being a white American, I have shoulder length blond hair,
blue-green eyes, and large 36C boobs. My ass too, is nice and round,
standing out from most Japanese girls, who seem to have no ass at all.
I have great legs that I've always been proud of and one good thing
about Japan is the fashions, they really are on top of it in Tokyo. I
like wearing short skirts and nice tailored blouses and blazers.
Appearance is everything sometimes and even more so in Japan.

I have had a lot of strange experiences here. One of the first was
riding the Tokyo subway system. The trains, both above and below
ground, are extremely efficient, and extremely crowded. Japanese men
seem to take a perverse pleasure in these circumstances, using the
crowded conditions to excuse their desire to feel up any woman who
catches their fancy. For me it became a daily exercise in
self-control, as I quickly became aware that not only was it extremely
impolite to get angry and display emotion, but also quite useless.
Venting on a Japanese man usually only got you some very cold and
unsympathetic looks from everyone, even old women and children.

Of course not reacting also invites more and bolder advances, so it
becomes a real no win situation. It can be very humiliating, even
degrading, and at first I was nearly driven to tears by it. Now I just
endure it, keeping my body still and trying my best to ignore what is
happening, but this isn't always possible.

Just for an example, a few months after I arrived, when it was still a
quite warm September, I was riding the train and it was crowded as
usual. I was wearing a short cotton skirt, no pantyhose, just some
panties underneath. A plain cotton blouse and a light blazer. I was in
a corner, but not near the doors unfortunately, but at least I could
look out the window, when I felt someone rubbing my thigh.

I just ignored it and the hand was going back and forth, a little
higher as the train rocked until I felt the fingers brushing across my
panties. The hand turned sideways, pushing a little so I would spread
my legs and I thought I'd resist, but he was insistent and I shuffled
my feet slightly, giving the stranger better access. He rubbed my slit
through my panties for a few minutes and then, inevitably, slipped his
fingers inside the leg band to touch my smooth shaven mound.

I don't usually get excited by this, but sometimes I do and that day I
could feel myself getting damp. I felt him pushing his fingers inside
me, my labia clinging to him as he worked slowly in and out. I just
leaned against the window and shut my eyes and soon I was getting very
wet and the Japanese guy, whose face I still hadn't seen, brought his
fingers to my ass then. For whatever reason, the Japanese are
fascinated with anything anal. He started pushing his wet fingers into
my ass, making me gasp very softly as my muscles gave way. It didn't
feel bad though and he fingered my ass for several minutes before the
train came to a station.

I didn't look around as people came and went and I assumed the
Japanese guy who had been fingering me would still be there, but
instead I was surprised a moment later by some very different fingers.
If I had to guess I would say that some other man had been a witness
to the whole thing and after the first guy had left, he jumped in to
take his place. His fingers were thicker and he wasn't as gentle. He
probed my vagina for several minutes and then I was very surprised
when he took my hand with his free hand and pulled it back so I could
feel his exposed penis.

This had happened a few times to me, but not very often. More often
during the cold months when a man could cover himself with a coat. I
played with his cock, feeling it not too hard, but thick and warm and
we masturbated each other until he suddenly came, spurting all over my
hand, wrist and the back of my legs. It felt slightly disgusting and I
blushed as I wondered how in the world I was going to clean myself up.
My stop was coming soon and I'd literally have to push my way through
the crowd to get out. I ended up wiping myself on my skirt, being as
surreptitious as I could. The man had stopped fingering me as soon as
he came and I never did see either of the men's faces.

Another thing that is unusual are the lunches. I learned very quickly
that it is not uncommon at all for Japanese businesswomen to
prostitute themselves during their lunch hours. At first I was shocked
at this and then even more so when one of the Japanese men who worked
in my department suggested we get a hotel room for lunch. He was
willing to pay me 10,000 yen, about a hundred dollars for the pleasure
of my company. I refused of course, but the offers persisted, and not
just from him. It seemed the men in the company had made some kind of
betting pool as to which of them would bed me first. I found it
insulting and I reported it to my supervisor, an older Japanese man
who had struck me as a fair and reasonable fellow.

He surprised me when he told me that I should not say no to my fellow
employees because it was bad for the company spirit. We were a team,
the man said, and I should help do my part to keep us successful. I
was so put out by this, really very discouraged, that I took a few
days off, calling in sick. When I came back to work my supervisor
wasn't pleased at all and while he didn't mention my lack of providing
my sexual services specifically, he did make it very clear that he
would file some very adverse comments about my performance if my
attitude didn't change. I was being blackmailed, it was plain as day,
and there was nothing I could do about it. The company had no sexual
harassment policy in Japan. I'm serious, it just did not exist.

I ended up accepting an offer from one of the supervisors in another
department, who at least was good looking. He took me to a hotel that
rented rooms by the hour called `Happy Moon Love' in English and I'll
tell you quite frankly that it was the most brutal sex of my life up
to that point. I felt like I was being raped and I wondered why he was
acting the way he was. I'd come willingly, albeit somewhat embarrassed
since everyone who didn't know already would definitely know by the
close of business.

The room was small and had nothing but a thin futon on a traditional
mat floor. Once inside the room we undressed. I was a little shy
because I hadn't been with a man in almost a year and I knew this guy
hardly at all. My Japanese still wasn't very good yet, and his English
was marginal at best. Once I was undressed I turned around and saw him
standing there stroking a surprisingly large penis. Like most
Westerners I'd imagined that oriental men were generally small in the
penis department, but this guy certainly gave lie to that. It was a
solid 8" and pretty big around.

I wasn't exactly sure what I was doing, if I should just lay down or
what and I smiled a little nervously as he stared at me. Then, without
saying a word he grabbed one of my breasts in his fingers and squeezed
it so hard I nearly screamed. He used it to pull me down to my knees
and I complied rapidly because it felt like he was trying to rip it
right off my chest. I would have been mad, but I was too busy being
frightened, if that makes any sense. It was just so unexpected.

He pushed his cock at my face and soon had his hands in my hair,
pulling me onto him. I'd never really been into sucking off my
boyfriends before and so I was a little reluctant maybe doing it for
this guy, who was little more than a stranger, but he didn't care. He
held my head and basically just fucked my mouth. It was almost painful
as he tried to get me to open my throat so I could deep throat him. I
was choking and gagging a little as I sucked him noisily, my hands
pressing against his thighs, and then finally he caught me just right
and his cock just popped into my throat. He slid all the way down,
until his hairy balls pressed to my chin and he held me there like
that for a good 30 seconds or more. My eyes were watering and my
throat felt sore and bruised. I sputtered and retched a little when he
pulled back, gasping for air, and then he did it again, easier this
time.

He fucked my throat for awhile, talking to me in Japanese, and
laughing occasionally. It did get easier as I learned how to control
my muscles a little, how to let him enter me so it didn't hurt so
much. But basically he was just raping my mouth and I felt deeply
ashamed while he did it. I was crying and had my eyes closed nearly
the entire time. This seemed to amuse him though, and I've found the
same to be true with many different men since that first time. They
really like to feel that thrill of power over a woman, especially an
American woman I think.

At least he didn't cum in my mouth, like I was afraid he would.
Instead he put me on my hands and knees and fucked me like a dog,
pushing his cock roughly into me and I was grateful that his cock was
so wet from my mouth, because my pussy was very dry. It still hurt a
little. He stretched me very quickly and made me cry out, which of
course was a sign to him that I wanted more. I also became aware of
the fact that he wasn't wearing a condom and I wasn't on the pill or
anything. I tried breathlessly, gasping the words between his thrusts,
to tell him that he would have to pull out. That I couldn't afford to
get pregnant.

I didn't know then if he understood me or not, but I realized quickly
that he had no intention of pulling out of me. Instead he grabbed my
arms, literally pulling me back onto his cock as he leaned backwards,
so we were joined and balanced on our knees, fucking like that. I
couldn't have gotten away from him if I'd tried. He was inside me deep
and I begged him again to stop, to pull out. I'd even suck him if he
wanted, letting him cum in my mouth, but please, not inside my pussy.

It was no use I felt his cock jerking and he held me tight to him as I
became aware of a flood of warmth filling my womb. His cockhead was
right up to my cervix and it actually might have felt really good, if
I hadn't been cringing and literally weeping with despair. I knew I
was ovulating, there was little doubt, I was right in the middle of my
cycle. His sperm filled me and he must have been saving it up, because
there was a lot. When he finished he just got off me and dressed, not
saying anything and leaving me there. I felt so sorry for myself, I
just looked at my pussy, stretched and sore and leaking the guy's
sperm.

When I arrived back at work, a little late, there was a lot of smiling
and bowing by the men I worked with. The women largely ignored me, but
the guys, they were happy because I'd finally put out. The man who'd
first propositioned me, Kenji, told me he wanted me the next day. I
felt numb and embarrassed and I just nodded. It was humbling to
realize that I'd basically become a part-time prostitute for my
company, one of the Fortune 500 that I'd been so eager to join.

I did file a complaint to the VP of Human Resources back in the United
States, not saying specifically what I'd done, I couldn't bring myself
to do that, but generally informing him of what seemed to be corporate
policy regarding women here in the Tokyo office. The reply came back
that the company would look into the matter. I never heard another
word about it and I realized that Japan could do whatever it wanted,
it was the price of doing business.

I wish I could really tell you how humiliated I truly was, especially
when I went to a Japanese drug store and purchased a large quantity of
condoms. I also needed to see a doctor and get back on the pill. I was
more than a little unhappy with myself, because I felt like I was
giving in too easily, just giving myself up without a fight. But what
was I going to do? I needed the job and I was 10,000 miles away from
home. I thought I was doing the only thing I could.

Since that first lunch when I had sex, I'd done it pretty much every
day since. Except when I was on my period and with the birth control
pills I'm on, my period is really only 3 days long now and very light,
so often I have sex on those days anyway. Japanese men, some of them
anyway, don't mind at all. The one's who do are more than happy to
have anal sex, or just oral, but mostly anal.

I also found out how easy it is to get an abortion in Japan. I did in
fact get pregnant that first time. It took me 3 weeks to find out and
I think I already knew it. I'd never been pregnant before and I'd
grown up with typical the suburban American romance regarding the
subject. I wanted it to be with a man I loved, a man I was married to.
Instead it was a stranger's child. A man whom I only just barely knew
and couldn't even have an adequate conversation with, if I wanted to.
I did write him a note, translating it into Japanese as best I could,
and I gave it to him a few days after I found out.

He was going to fuck me again, paying me for the privilege of raping
me during lunch, but raping me none the less. Before I undressed I
handed it to him, watching for his reaction as he read it. He just
wadded it up in a crumpled ball and threw it, laughing at me. I was so
offended I tried to slap him, but he stepped back and then surprised
me with a sharp punch to my stomach. The man, a division manager at
our company, ripped off my panties as I lay crying and trying to
breathe through the pain. He fucked me, not bothering with a condom
since it was obvious now that there was no need for one. While he did
it, he would abuse my belly, perhaps trying to cause a miscarriage, I
don't know. He pressed on me hard, punched me, and the whole time just
grinned and talked to me like I was a wayward child.

He didn't cause me to lose the baby, however, and a few weeks later
one of the secretaries at work who spoke passable English told me
she'd been assigned to take care of my problem. Obviously it wasn't
much of a secret around the office anymore. She took me to a clinic, a
very small one located nearby and I paid 23,000 yen for an abortion.
It was fairly quick, painless physically, although inside I was
suffering terribly. I was raised a catholic and I knew this was wrong,
but I also knew I could never keep the child. It was another all-time
low in a series of them.

In addition to being a prostitute during my lunch hour, I was soon
initiated into the social responsibilities I was expected to perform
after normal working hours for my bosses, usually when they wanted to
impress an executive or two from another corporation. Apparently it
was some perverse point of honor that my boss could provide a pretty
gaijin woman for his dinner guest's pleasure. This was often
accompanied by some of the most humiliating and degrading experiences
of my life. If you can imagine it, I performed it, sooner or later. I
do not know if these men, supposedly the cream of the Japanese
business community, were actually into those things, or if they were
just warped by the potential to abuse an American woman.

One of the first times, I was dressed very nicely and attempting to
entertain a vice-president for a large Japanese bank. There were two
dozen of us, 12 men and a female companion for each of them, at an
exclusive and private rest house in Tokyo. There was a dinner
provided, a bath house, some bedrooms. It was basically a place for
Japanese men to take their mistresses and have all the comforts of
home.

The other girls were all Japanese and I felt very alone there, being
largely ignored, except when one of the men would eye me with very
obvious sexual hunger. They didn't bother disguising it at all and
while my Japanese wasn't very good, I knew enough of the vulgarities
already to know when they were talking about me and the things they
would like to do.

My corporate VP for Marketing Japan was the host and I naturally
deferred to him in all things, but he surprised me when after we'd
eaten, or I should say the men had eaten. We females didn't touch
anything but our tea. The VP asked me if I was a `Milky Girl'. I tried
to translate this, as many times what a Japanese will say in English
has a completely different meaning than what the words are. Other
times it can be very literal. I'd never heard that term before so I
lowered my head and tried to explain I didn't understand.

Well, it seems a `Milky Girl' is a female with a sperm fetish. This
was definitely not me, but I didn't have very much choice at all. It
was time for sex games, which the Japanese seem to love a great deal.
This one was simple enough, all the Japanese girls began giving their
dates blowjobs. I was a bit shocked, seeing these girls, all of them
secretaries or minor executives, salary women like I was, bending
eagerly, even happily to their tasks. I was not exactly thrilled at
the thought of going down on the total stranger I was sitting next to,
an older man of about 60 I thought, but I started only to have him
push me away.

I didn't know what was going on. I sat there, rather embarrassed as
all around me women were sucking noisily away and the men talked like
it was just another day in the lunchroom, laughing and commenting on
the women's techniques. When one man started cumming, a large glass,
like a goblet was used to capture the sperm. This was done for every
man there, except the VP I was with. We just watched as the glass was
passed around. It was filling rapidly, I didn't really think men made
that much sperm. I'd heard most guys cum just a few tablespoons, or
something, but who knows.

All I know is that it looked positively gross. A glass full of 8...9...10
and finally 11 men's sperm. It looked like about 12 ounces of jism,
with a thick gooey consistency, pale yellowish and I felt nauseated to
see it. I didn't have a sperm phobia or anything, but this was pretty
far out there to my mind. I was in for an even greater surprise though
when the glass was passed down until it was sitting in front of me.
Like my desert or something, there was no doubt what I was supposed to
do with it.

I looked at my boss and he just nodded, telling me to drink it in
Japanese. Everyone was staring at me and many of the men and women
were whispering and even giggling. I knew the women were all very glad
that I was there, I had the feeling that a few of those girls had been
in my position previously. I just stared at the glass for a moment and
I felt my boss prodding me until I finally picked it up. I swirled it
around a little, it was so gross. Like cream that had gone bad it
seemed. I could even distinguish between the different men in the
glass, the sperm was layered almost, stratified by consistency. I
looked around, which was a big mistake because seeing those people
staring at me just made my face burn and tears start in my eyes.

I took a breath and brought the glass to my lips, smelling the very
strong and pungent odor. It was assaulting me, physically, mentally,
emotionally. I just wanted to crawl into a hole and die. But instead I
tilted the glass and my mouth started to fill with sperm and I gagged
at first, unable to force myself to swallow. I sat there, crying with
my cheeks bulging with sperm. My body was rebelling, my stomach
churning but somehow I managed to swallow. It was almost painful and I
brought the glass to my lips and repeated the process slowly, taking
perhaps 7 or 8 big swallows to get it all down.

I put the glass on the table and looked down, hoping desperately that
I wouldn't throw up. I held my stomach and didn't move, just hiding
behind closed eyes in that room with all those people. They were happy
with me, laughing and even the girls were speaking gently to me, but I
ignored them. I just couldn't bear to face them. I'd just drank a big
glass of sperm. I was going to throw up any minute. But somehow I
didn't. I just sat there while the meal continued on around me. The
men were enjoying sake and the girl's were allowed to eat small salads
now. When they put the bowel in front of me, the waitress poured a
generous amount of bleu cheese dressing on it, much to my companions'
delight. I couldn't eat it.

After that I became known as `Milky Girl' around the office, which was
horrible. My supervisor seemed to think it was a very clever pun,
because I was Caucasian, and never hesitated to refer to me that way
no matter where we were. Of course it also meant I had a sperm fetish,
as I mentioned, and I blushed every time someone used it.

My attendance at those evening business meetings became more and more
routine as time passed. They were invariably similar in that I and any
other female present were only intended for the sexual gratification
of the men present. How that was achieved depended on the men and the
mood, but it almost never involved straight normal sex. Sperm play was
a favorite, most often drinking it from a large glass and I became
somewhat used to it. At least it got to the point where I could drink
it without fear of getting sick. But I always felt terrible
afterwards. I learned that it was best to eat a lot of crackers, or
very dry bread before I went to these dinners, it seemed to settle my
tummy a bit better.

One of the worst episodes I had involved bestiality, which had never
occurred to me. I'd never even seen a picture of such a thing, never
wanted to, although of course everyone has heard stories of some kind
or another. This was on a weekend, a Saturday afternoon and ironically
enough it involved a couple Americans, although they didn't work for
my company. They were the guests of honor, although such a thing is
relative as I'd learned to distinguish the subtle Japanese art of
insulting honored guests while making them feel complimented.

There were seven men present, the two Americans, and two executives
from my company, and three other men whom I didn't know at all, but
were businessmen with some company or another. I was the only woman
present which was unusual in itself and we were in a rest house near
Ueno, sitting in a garden which was very pleasant. There were several
dogs there, large ones, and I'm certainly no expert, but I believe
they were Boxers, or a similar breed. There were three, all males, and
they were large as I said. One of them probably weighed nearly as much
as I did, and his head very nearly came up to my shoulder. The other
two were not much smaller.

I ignored them and rather concentrated on the Americans, who were
average looking, in their mid-forties and not terribly amusing
conversationalists, but at least they were from home. I was mostly
surprised that some Japanese women weren't present, because as
fascinating as most Japanese men found my occidental appearance,
Westerners generally had the same interest in oriental girls.

When the talk turned to sex, as it inevitably does, my boss was
offering me to do anything, speaking in his broken English as if I
couldn't hear him. I looked down and burned with humiliation as he
told the men, American and Japanese, that I would do anything. I would
fuck, suck, drink sperm. I was a `Milky Girl' he said proudly and I
literally shook with embarrassment.

"Anything, huh?" One of the American's chuckled.

"God, I love this country!" The other one said. "Will she have sex
with dogs?"

I jerked my head up as I registered the words and I couldn't believe
I'd heard him correctly. The Americans were staring at me of course
and I think the red on my cheeks was even more amusing to them than
anything else. I whispered "No." but if anyone heard it, they ignored
my feeble protest completely.

"Dog?" My boss asked and when the American pointed at one of the
animals he nodded and laughed, clapping his hands. "Yes! Yes!" He
agreed and there was a lot of talking and good natured chuckles, but
none of it directed at me. They didn't care what I thought of the
idea.

I knew it was coming, but there was nothing I could do. I suppose I
could have gotten angry, refused and stormed out, but that would have
ended my career completely. My Japanese bosses would see to it I never
did anything more with my hard won and frightfully expensive college
education than manage a McDonald's someplace. It was blackmail of
worst kind, insidious and degrading, and completely unstoppable. My
whole future would be in ruins if I refused, and if I accepted, how
would I ever be able to get through another day? I was crying softly
as I undressed with my back to the men.

The two executives from my company, a couple of assistant
vice-presidents, paid no attention to my distress. "Kimakura-san,
please, I do not wish to do this." I spoke to one of them softly.

"It will be good for the company, Lisa-san. Good for you too." He
smiled and I shut my eyes tightly.

I was naked and one of my bosses pushed me down, so I was bending over
a chaise lounge made of teak and satin. Another of the Japanese men
had pulled one of the dogs over by the collar. He was huge and his fur
short, chocolate brown and black. I didn't know what to expect and I
was shaking with nervous energy, almost ready to flee. I'd never even
owned a dog, they scared me a little, especially the larger ones, like
these. I felt his nose against my sex as he was pushed down and
Kimakura told me to spread my legs wider. As I did so I felt the
sudden touch of the animal's rough and warm tongue, sampling my vagina
from the rear. I almost jumped out of my skin and one of the Japanese
men I didn't know came over to put a hand on my shoulder, pushing me
down as the dog licked me.

It didn't feel terrible by any means, in fact I almost found myself
enjoying the sensation, especially when he started digging inside my
pussy and scraping that tongue across my clit. This only added to my
humiliation though, especially when I could hear the Americans
laughing about how it was obvious I was enjoying it. One kept saying
how he'd always wanted to see this and he couldn't wait. He only
wished he'd brought along his camcorder. I thanked my lucky stars that
he hadn't, it was a small consolation though.

After several minutes of being licked I heard them talking about how
the animal was getting excited now. I was getting damp, despite my
fear and embarrassment, and the dog could taste my sex juices now.
Apparently his cock had begun to swell and one of the Americans
wondered if I'd be able to take it. This caused some momentary panic
because I had no idea how big a dog's penis was, I wanted to look, but
I was afraid of appearing eager. I finally did get a glimpse and
gasped with shocked dismay as I saw what was hanging beneath the
animal's belly. It had to be 7" long and fat in the middle, very fat,
but tapered on both ends with a blunt almost sharp looking tip that
dripped like a faucet. It was big and not even fully erect yet, I
didn't think.

The other two dogs had come around now as well, sniffing and barking
excitedly. I ignored them and the men around me, just wishing this
would all be over. I'd never, ever live this down I knew, I could only
hope that these men wouldn't talk about it. Or if they did, they'd at
least have the decency not to mention my name. But reflecting on
recent history, that seemed very unlikely.

They finally got the animal to mount me, albeit with some difficulty I
think and I had to move my ass a little to accommodate the angle
better. I felt the hot wet tip of the dog's cock stabbing at me as he
tried to find my hole and I let out a high pitched scream when the
animal finally found it and just slammed his entire cock inside me. It
was incredibly painful like that, nothing slow and gentle about it at
all, he sensed he was in and just started fucking as hard and fast as
he could.

My scream soon died to a soft whimpering sound as my body just
collapsed under the dog's furious assault. It seemed to have only one
concern and that was filling his new bitch with sperm, making some
puppies. My pussy felt totally abused, being stretched and possibly
even torn, as the cock swelled inside me. It fucked in and out so fast
and hard it literally knocked the wind out of me and I was gasping
while my body jerked with every thrust.

The Japanese man who had been holding my shoulder took out his penis
and was jerking off while he watched and I soon became aware of all
the men doing that. I was crying now, very real sobs from the
unbearable humiliation, more than anything else. The pain had largely
gone away after a few minutes and it was starting to feel okay. But
emotionally, I was dying inside. The men were all talking and laughing
and commenting on how it looked like I was really enjoying it,
although how they could have thought that I have no idea. I was
basically being raped by the animal. His paws were on the lounger, his
heavy chest against my back, pinning me down, and his cock buried
inside me. I could do nothing but take it.

I'd thought the worst was over when the pain from the animal's initial
thrusting had faded away. I was resigned to it now and my pussy was
juicing in response to the stimulation, but then I felt something
else. There was a hardness banging against the outside of my pussy. I
couldn't identify what it was, I had no experience with dogs at all. I
now know it was the knot, the large bulge of muscle that dogs have. He
was slamming it against me until I screamed again, not so much in pain
really, as in surprise when the large hard ball suddenly popped into
my soaked pussy, stretching me and filling me completely.

I arched my back and tried to push myself off, but it was no use.
Every movement I made was futile at best and worse, it only seemed to
move that knot deeper. I was moaning loudly, weeping and begging for
the dog to stop when I felt an orgasm rush through me. I was
completely unprepared for it. There was no slow building up like there
usually is for me, it just happened, like a tornado out of a clear
sky. I was humping that hardness like a mad woman then, heedless of
the men watching, just getting off with a dizzying confusion of
pleasure.

The dog came too, shortly after that, and then the men, all of them
moving to spray their cum on my face as I lay panting and flushed.
They got it in my hair and eyes, and all over my face and neck. The
dog was tied to me, his bulging knot trapped inside my pussy and he
waited patiently. I couldn't move then, I didn't want to move, I just
thanked God it was over. I'd cum, yes, and that betrayal by my body
was bothersome to me. I didn't want to feel pleasure doing that thing
with an animal. I didn't want to enjoy debasing myself in front of
strangers. But I had, and I knew it. And even more, each of those men
knew it.

When the dog's knot had finally gone down enough, he pulled free with
a small flood of our combined juices gushing out of me. I started to
move then, feeling sore and tender, especially between my legs, but I
was stopped. There were still two more dogs and I was yelling then,
protesting loudly, but it was no use. The dogs were going to mate with
me, whether I liked it or not. I resisted to the point where it became
an issue of quitting my job, and common sense prevailed. I'd already
done it once, what difference would doing it again make?

I fucked the other two dogs over the next hour or so, probably longer,
and I was so sore by the end I could hardly move. All of the men had
masturbated at least once more, covering my face with their sperm so
that I was sticky with it. My hair was terrible with thick drying gobs
of cum. I was a mess, barely even human in appearance I thought, much
less the beautiful young woman I'd come into the garden as. There were
girls there, geisha's who stayed there, and though they hadn't been
invited to our little party, now they were called to help me clean up.
They were very gentle and sympathetic and I didn't look at any of the
men, or say anything as I was led to a private bath.

I managed to sleep through the rest of the weekend, but I was still
incredibly sore Monday morning when I went into work. I walked slowly
and wore flats instead of heels and no matter how I squirmed, it was
impossible to sit comfortably at my desk. I received a rude surprise
though when I went to our usual 10am Monday meeting and found one of
the American's there. He was going to give us a presentation and I
felt myself burning hotly as I sat, unable to meet his gaze. Every
time I did risk a quick glance, I caught his eyes staring at me and a
smile playing across his lips. He hadn't known who I was before,
probably assuming I was just some goodtime girl, but now he knew and I
would never be comfortable again. I imagined him going back to the
States, telling his story about me to all of his contacts over drinks,
laughing and then delivering the punch line that I was a marketing
officer for one of the largest companies in the world.

Over time I became aware that I was changing. The outrage and shock
I'd experienced at first were gradually wearing away. I found myself
actually enjoying my lunchtime proclivities, at least with some of the
men. Even the occasional evening entertainments seemed to be less
offensive than they'd once seemed. I was becoming jaded by my
experiences, my sensibilities becoming inured to the terrible things I
was being forced to do. If I were of a suspicious nature I might have
suspected my Japanese employers were doing this deliberately,
following some sort of protocol to turn me into a sexual tool for
their pleasure and benefit. But my only real thoughts were that I
needed to survive this experience. To get out of Japan at the end of
my little tour and see about restoring my reputation back home. Much
of that would depend on my evaluations though, and it was clear that
my performance out of the office was at least as important as anything
I could do in it.

On my 26th birthday I was treated to a special night by all the male
employees of our department, or at least the majority of them. This
was about 30 men, most of whom I had slept with already at least once.
I really do think that some of them thought they were doing me a
favor, a special honor. Others merely wanted to degrade me more. It is
curious in Japan that there are two lines of thought. One is the
unconditional acceptance of foreigners, and the other is the absolute
loathing of our presence. There is no middle ground it seems, and I
had learned who was who very quickly. The men who wanted no part of me
in the business world, were naturally enough, the ones who liked to
purchase my lunchtime services the most often. Fucking me to
demonstrate their superiority.

My so-called party was held at a private bar, Japanese only. Japanese
men only, to be precise, but for this occasion I was allowed in. There
were several hostesses working there, young and attractive Japanese
women who sang karaoke, served drinks, and offered sexual release to
patrons. Because I was known as a `Milky Girl' and I'd grown
accustomed to drinking glasses of sperm upon request, it had been
decided to give me a `bukake' party. I'd never heard of this before,
but basically, as I was to find out, it was a sperm bath. Being
covered with it, usually on the face, and drinking a lot of it. In
addition to the 30 men from my company, there were perhaps a dozen or
more who were just the usual patrons.

I didn't know what was in store for me. The men were all nice enough,
buying me drinks, singing, talking loudly and enjoying themselves. I
was even relaxing a little, thinking that perhaps I might have to do
something, but thinking it was my birthday, so maybe this really was
just a time to relax and enjoy myself. I did like many of the men and
got along with them well.

Eventually I found myself sitting in a low chair in the center of the
small bar. There was plastic on the floor beneath me and I wondered
vaguely at that, but I was a little buzzed from the drinks. One of the
girls brought over a strange looking metal pan, like a bed pan almost,
except smaller. It was round and one side was indented with a curve
that went under my chin, so that it curled halfway around my neck. So
I had this stainless pan, perhaps 2 inches deep and 6 inches wide,
curving from ear to ear in front of me. I held it there, not quite
knowing what was going on when the men started pulling out their
cocks.

My eyes got very wide indeed at that point and I looked around
understanding suddenly exactly what was going on. These guys, nearly
fifty of them, were going to masturbate and cum on my face. What I
didn't swallow, what didn't cling to my pretty face and golden hair,
would drip into the pan I was holding. I had a sickening sensation in
my stomach. This was my birthday party? Getting degraded by my
coworkers and worse, a number of complete strangers? I was even more
disheartened when I saw that most of the men had brought cameras and a
few had camcorders, all to record the event for posterity.

My body felt like it was on fire and I shivered, regretting that I was
wearing one of my nicer business suits. I'd paid nearly 800 dollars
for it only a week before, a special little present to myself. I knew
it would soon be ruined and that thought, for some reason, seemed
almost the hardest to bear. I would have cried, but I didn't. I made
up my mind that resisting this would only hurt me more. I could hardly
stand seeing those men, stroking their pricks around me like
schoolboys at a proverbial circle jerk. They were drinking, laughing,
and joking. I took a deep breath and somehow managed to smile,
inviting them to do it. To masturbate on my face and spoil me with
their disgusting seed. It was a terrible thing, I know, to have to
pretend I was enjoying it, that I wanted it. I thanked each man as he
approached, sometimes standing on tip-toe and arching his back. They
would jerk and throb and sometimes cum would spew out in a gush of
heat, sometimes it would spray hard and thick, and sometimes just
dribble out.

They painted my face for over an hour, some of them jerking off two
and three times. My face was a mask of sperm. My makeup running and
adding color as it streaked down my cheeks. The stuff burned my eyes
and I had tears to mix in with the sloppy sticky mess. But still I
smiled, tilting my head to catch their cum on my lips, chin, forehead,
nose, cheeks, even in my ears, and in my hair. It was everywhere. I
felt like I was getting a facial, a mudpack or something exotic to
make me beautiful, but this was something else entirely. I must have
looked terrible, with all that goo running down into the pan I held.

It dripped down my neck, staining my blouse and blazer. Onto my skirt
and no matter how carefully I tried to catch it in the pan, some
little bit always seemed to escape. But that pan was getting full. I
had to move carefully as it sloshed inside, so I wouldn't spill the
whole thing all over myself. It stank with the male musk unique to
sperm and I actually smiled a little I think, recalling how that
overpowering scent had once almost made me ill. Now I hardly noticed
it.

I smiled for the camera repeatedly and pushed out my tongue for those
who wanted to cum there, taking the sperm in my mouth and then
spitting it out so it ran down my chin into the pan. I tried to
swallow as little as I could and I found my mouth filling with saliva,
so that I was spitting that out as well, even when I had no cum to
speak of in my mouth. When at long last they were finished, my arms
and shoulders aching from that position I'd been in for so long, they
brought out a large glass pitcher, like a beer pitcher and I carefully
poured the contents of the pan into it.

I don't know how much the pitcher held, probably a good 96 ounces I'd
guess, 8 big glasses worth, and it was about two thirds full. The
substance looked gross, a pale yellowish mixture of 40 some men's
semen. A girl gave me a large mixing stick and I stirred it around,
smiling for the cameras. Then it was time to drink it. They didn't
give me a glass, instead I would just use the rounded pouring lip that
was molded into the pitcher's rim. I tilted it up, trying to forget
what it was I was drinking, trying to become deaf and blind to the men
who sat and stood around me, filming it and laughing. The girls, the
hostesses who giggled a little nervously, were undoubtedly telling
each other that they would never do such a disgusting thing.

But I did it. I took it down my throat into my unprepared stomach in
one large swallow after another. I would take a mouthful and lower the
pitcher, holding the cooling spooge in my mouth and try to swallow it
without retching. It was rich and nasty, with a texture like snot,
thickening slightly I think as it sat there. My stomach was churning,
the sperm settling inside me and making me feel sick, but I ignored
it. Forcing more down and feeling bloated as I swallowed a lot of air
as well, I needed to swallow three or four times just to get a
mouthful down and keep it down. In between I would pause, occasionally
belch and that would bring a slight gag, a little spasm in my body.
But the guys didn't notice, they just cheered me on until I had drank
the entire contents.

I put the pitcher down and closed my eyes, taking short shallow
breaths. I felt like a gutter slut, the worst kind of woman in the
world. I imagined my friends and family back home hearing of this, or
seeing pictures, and I felt the tears coming again. I couldn't believe
what I'd just done, for no other reason than a bunch of perverted
Japanese men had wanted me to. I knew I was changing and as I sat
there, crying with impotent anger and humiliation, I knew it was a
change for the worse.

The bad thing was, no one there, not even my closest friends from
work, understood what I was feeling. They thought I'd enjoyed my
birthday present. That I was too happy to speak or something, and that
incredibly stupid thought made me laugh. Of course that only spurred
them on and I was grateful when one of the girls brought me a drink. I
was still covered with sperm, now drying to a tacky mask and one of
the guys pulled up my blouse, exposing my tummy so they could see it.
In no time I was undressed completely in front of the crowd and
everyone it seemed wanted to touch me. My stomach mostly, squeezing it
as if they could feel all that sperm inside me, but also playing with
my ripe full breasts and spreading my legs to play with my shaved
pussy.

It wasn't long before they had me down on the plastic, with my long
legs spread wide so they could gangbang me. I was so far gone I didn't
protest, I just endured it. It even felt good at times and I had a
number of small orgasms while the men took their turns with me. I was
turned over to give them better access, a couple guys pushing me down
to straddle one man's cock and a moment later someone was behind me,
pushing his penis into my ass. Another cock found my mouth and I had
cocks in each of my hands. I felt like a porn star or something and
the thought reminded me that all of this was being filmed. But I
couldn't do anything about it. When one man came another soon took his
place, the only time I really moved at all was to let someone slide
out or in beneath me. I was a total wanton slut now, and I pushed
everything else out of my mind.

It was my first gangbang and amazingly enough I was actually a little
proud of myself when it was over. The men were well and truly spent
and I was a mess. Sperm was running from my overflowing cunt and my
ass felt loose and wet, a little sore, but I must have had a gallon of
sperm in my rectum by then. I'd swallowed a lot and I was literally
covered from head to toe with the stuff. I looked like a drowned rat,
I supposed, and I just wore my skirt and blazer home, using my
expensive new blouse to clean myself up a little in the back of the
taxi. The driver didn't seem too happy.

Needless to say, pictures of my birthday party quickly made their way
around the company. It seemed every department had their own album
full of them and it was so bizarre. Japanese are the strangest people
on earth. I was signing autographs on occasion, penning my name across
8x10 blowups of my face covered in sperm, or getting double
penetrated. This was a culture in serious need of something, I didn't
know what, but something. I found it to be embarrassing generally, but
after awhile I largely ignored it.

All that changed though the night I was to accompany a small group of
businessmen to a club in Yokohama. It turned out to be a BDSM sex
club, of all things, and I was very shocked at some of the things I
saw there. All of the girls working there were in fetish gear,
beautiful and expensive PVC and leather of all shapes and colors. I
was dressed normally and the only women customer in the place. Along
with me were three men, one of our company VP's and a couple business
associates he wanted to impress.

The club wasn't large, as such things rarely are in Japan. There was a
small stage and seating for perhaps 50 people around it, chairs and
small tables with candles. It was frightfully expensive to get in,
30,000 yen each, about 300 dollars, but my boss didn't even flinch.
There was no charge for me, like most clubs, women are free. Once
inside it was open bar, you could drink as much as you liked and there
were numerous small snacks available. But the real interest was in the
stage shows, which were 15-30 minutes long, with intermissions, and
featured almost any kind of light BDSM you can imagine.

I played with the two associates of my boss, feeling their cocks while
we watched, doing my part for the corporate image. Then there came
something interesting. They'd brought out a smaller girl, in her
mid-twenties, but very fragile and pretty. She was nude but for a pair
of handcuffs dangling from each wrist, she wasn't yet bound in any
way. They were offering a short riding crop for auction and naturally
enough I suppose, these Japanese men wanted to see the American woman
whipping the girl.

I'd never done anything like that in my life and as I took the crop
and swished it through the air, I was pretty sure it would hurt a lot.
A hostess dressed in black leather chained the girl to a pair of rings
hanging from the ceiling so her back was to the audience and told me
to begin. I gave her a few smacks on her butt, gentle ones because I
genuinely was uninterested in hurting the woman. The Japanese men
watching however were unhappy with that and they were yelling at me to
really hit her. I whipped her a little harder, but not very much, it
just wasn't in me to do that. The girl looked over her shoulder, as if
to ask me when I was going to start and I just looked at her.

My whole performance lasted less than ten minutes and I was feeling
very uncomfortable and self-conscious as the hostess took her crop
back. I started to leave the stage, but my boss was yelling, saying
that maybe the girl should whip me instead. It was hard for me to
follow his Japanese, but I got the idea and so did everyone else, who
laughed and clapped and nodded. The hostess looked at me and it was
obvious she was a very strong person, a Dominatrix or whatever you
want to call her. She literally grabbed my jaw in her gloved fingers
and pulled my blushing face to look into her hers.

"Do you want to be punished?" She was asking me and I tried to look at
my boss before I answered, but she held my head tight.

I could hear him, even if I couldn't see him, telling the hostess that
it was alright because I worked for him. I would do what I was told,
he said, and there was more laughter. I really didn't want this to
happen and I felt a small twinge of fear in my stomach. The Japanese
woman holding me was strikingly beautiful and her eyes seemed warm,
almost comforting and perhaps that was why I agreed to it. I thought
she would make sure I didn't get hurt. I wasn't a professional BDSM
model or whatever they called those people, by any means.

Another girl, dressed in a bikini came out and uncuffed the girl I was
supposed to have whipped and then the two of them helped me undress
while the hostess watched. I looked around, taking a deep breath
because of the 30 some men in that place, I only knew three, and
really only one...My boss. I was naked in a roomful of strangers and I
could hear them talking about me, generally praising my body, but
occasionally the odd Anglophobe would call me a cow or a fat pig. I
tried to ignore everything as I was fitted with a collar and then
leather cuffs around my wrists, fastened with silver buckles.

I had thought they might bind me the way the girl had been, just
handcuffed to the rings in the ceiling, but instead my arms were
brought behind my back, bent at the elbows so my arms pressed
painfully upward against my spine. It hurt a lot, making my joints
scream and I didn't know a person's arms could even bend that way.
They fastened my wrists to a large ring on the back of the collar. I
had to arch my back just to ease pressure on my shoulders and this
pushed my breasts out further, which was just what was intended.

My legs were spread a little wider than my hips, and I was chained to
small rings built into the floor of the stage. I was fitted with a
ball gag, which I didn't like at all, and I shook my head, saying that
no, I didn't want to be gagged. I was afraid that if I was hurt too
much I wouldn't be able to make them stop, to even yell for help, or
whatever. I admit I had no idea what was going on, this was a totally
new experience and I was in over my head right from the beginning.

The gag was a big red rubber ball that was squeezed into my protesting
mouth and then buckled around the back of my head. I felt my heart
pounding with excitement and fear, it was interesting to me, in a
forbidden sort of way, and I didn't understand what I was feeling. If
someone had asked me what I thought I'd feel about being a submissive
I'd have said no way, I'd never do it. But now here I was, getting
butterflies and not entirely because I wanted them to stop.

Finally a chain was lowered from the ceiling and it too connected to
the ring on the back of my collar. It was pulled taut, just enough to
give me the sensation of pressure, but not enough to lift me off my
feet or anything. I was standing there, bound helplessly now, gagged
and uncertain of what was going to happen. The hostess played with me
first, which I found both stimulating and humiliating. I'd never had
anything to do with another woman in my life, not even as a teenager.
I knew I wasn't lesbian, or even bi, not in the least. But here was
this beautiful Japanese woman stroking my breasts, talking to me
softly and telling me it was going to be okay, and I was enjoying it.

She moved her hands down, encased to the elbows in skin-tight black
leather, soft and shining, until she found my sex. She rubbed across
my slit for a little bit and then watched my eyes as she pushed a
finger inside me, massaging my clit with her thumb and making me
tremble. I don't think I'd ever been so excited so quickly in my life.
I didn't know what was going on, whether it was because of the woman,
because I was bound, because of the men watching, or a combination of
things. I only knew she was going to make me cum in about 30 seconds
if she didn't stop.

She must have realized it too, not that it could have been too hard to
tell really. My whole body was jerking and my skin fairly glowing. My
eyes wide and begging for relief. The woman didn't stop and her laugh
was soft and high pitched when she brought me off. I came hard and
after a few moments of leisure finger fucking, she brought her
fingers, now wet with my juices to her mouth and licked them. That was
the end of tenderness for a time, though.

The girl I was supposed to have whipped with the crop was now given
the task of whipping me. She looked like a Japanese angel, perhaps 5'
tall with big brown eyes, small firm breasts and a thick patch of
black pubic hair. But she was a demon in disguise, I think, because
she used the crop on me without mercy or sympathy. Not on my ass
either, which I might have borne better. She whipped my breasts,
taking a perverse delight in punishing them until they were covered
with angry red welts, top to bottom, side to side. She struck me no
place else, only my tits and it was unbearable.

I will tell you I screamed as long and hard as I could against that
gag. I jerked and twisted. I pulled against my bonds until my body was
bathed in sweat. I thought someone had poured gasoline on them and
tossed a match. I felt daggers of ice plunging into my breasts over
and over. It was a horrible contradiction of sensation that my body
couldn't deal with. I watched as my breasts turned darker, bruises
beginning to appear on my pale skin before the girl had even stopped.

My knees could barely keep me upright and I struggled to keep my
balance. I had never believed anything could hurt so badly. I stared
at the girl, now sweating and breathing hard, smiling back at me. I
was aware that I'd been crying and this seemed to please her quite a
lot, she told the hostess that my tears made me even prettier. I think
she would have continued until I passed out if the hostess hadn't
stopped her. I wondered how anyone that lovely could be that cruel.

The hostess began playing with my cunt again and I was surprised to
find that I was soaked down there. I thought I should have been dry,
but being whipped like that had brought me right to the edge and the
woman brought me off again with very little effort. My climax roared
through me, mixing with the pain in my breasts and it was like the
door to heaven had been cracked open. It was a revelation that I
couldn't understand then, but the hostess knew. She understood
completely, I think, and probably the girl who'd whipped me too.

The girl in the bikini returned with some long thin leather cords. If
I'd thought I was being released, I was very mistaken. Instead they
bound my breasts, one at a time, winding the leather tightly around
the base of my tit, over and over, pulling it painfully tight und
making the fatty tissue seem to balloon outward as the flesh narrowed.
They did this to both of them, so that my tits looked ugly and
misshapen, red and bruised and then starting to turn darker as the
blood inside them was trapped by the leather.

I was groaning uselessly against the gag in my mouth when the hostess
stepped back to admire her handiwork. She gave some orders and a
moment later the bikini clad girl returned with a small bag of metal
clips, like clothespins, only stronger with heavier springs and sharp
teeth like large alligator clips. The hostess worked these onto my
nipples first, which were hard and distended, red with blood and
swollen from the abuse they'd already suffered. It was an incredible,
exquisite pain and my body jerked as they were clipped, the hostess
positioning the open jaws over each nipple and then simply letting go,
so they snapped into place as if biting me.

A half dozen more were placed on each breast, clamping my flesh and
adding to the overwhelming pain I felt. But beneath it all I was
shuddering with excitement. I was truly enjoying this, some terrible
part of me that I'd never known existed was getting off on being
tortured, being degraded and humiliated in front of strangers. I felt
my pussy aching to be filled and I found the perverse desire to have
the woman clip some of those pins to my labia, even my sensitive
clitoris, to be an almost intoxicating thought. But this was to be
strictly breast torture, I understood, because they ignored every
other part of me except when the hostess wanted to bring me off to
another climax.

With my breasts whipped, bound, and clamped it came time for the
climax of the scene, of you'll pardon the expression. The hostess
disappeared from my sight for a moment and this gave me time to fix on
the crowd around me, whom I could just make out through the bright
lights that shone down upon me. It felt wonderfully strange to be
helpless and in such torturous pain while a few feet away men joked
and laughed and played with the girls who kept them company. I saw my
boss, smiling and pointing as he discussed me with his two associates.
I felt thoroughly degraded, as if I were so much less than any of
them. I was barely even human now, I thought, more like an animal to
be abused for pleasure, than a woman with an education and a good job.
How could anyone ever respect me, I wondered. How could I even respect
myself?

All of my thoughts, however were soon lost as I felt the hostess
behind me. She had strapped on a large dildo and she worked the head
across my slit from behind, so that it jutted out lewdly between my
spread legs. The woman teased me, and the crowd, for a few minutes
before finally pressing it not to my pussy, which by now was begging
to be filled, but rather to my anus. She put her lips to my ear,
whispering to me in Japanese that her name was Mistress Atsumi and she
was going to make me her slave. I shuddered and the gag made
insensible my reply, but she knew I wanted it. She pushed against me
hard, holding my hips as that large phallus stretched my tight
sphincter and popped inside. Then she began fucking me, getting a
little deeper with each stroke until eventually I had the entire 9" of
dildo inside my butt. Mistress Atsumi grabbed my tits then, digging
her gloved fingers into my tender flesh, by now horribly swollen and
purplish from their bonds. Her efforts knocked several of the clips
off and that was another splinter of pain.

She handled my tits roughly, working them up and down, squeezing and
pulling them, pressing them as she fucked my ass hard. I could feel
her hot breath against my neck and her leather encased body pressing
to mine. It was a glorious fuck filled with pain and pleasure and for
the first time in my life I came without feeling any external
stimulation on my clit or vagina. I shook and whimpered like a little
girl as Atsumi bent me completely to her will. I was powerless and it
thrilled me to my core.

After our show was over, the girl who'd whipped me and the other one,
the girl in the bikini, unbound me and brought me backstage. They
cleaned me up carefully, washing my body and applying a cream to my
breasts which looked terrible from the beating they'd taken. The
girls' hands were gentle and the water was very hot, very relaxing and
I enjoyed it a great deal. The girl who'd used the crop on my tits
climbed into the water with me, sitting very close and I felt her
hands stroking me. She told me her name was Fumiko and she asked me if
she'd hurt me. I told her that she had, and the woman looked a little
sad. But I smiled and told her I had enjoyed it.

After my bath I was ready to go back to my Boss, but I could not find
my clothes. I stood there in a towel, looking around and unsure of
what I was doing. None of the other women were in the small bath and I
opened the door to peek out. It was a narrow little hall with the bar
directly ahead, the stage to the left, and offices to the right. I was
concerned because I thought my Boss would probably be angry with me by
now. I frowned and had just about made up my mind to go to the bar
when Atsumi walked off the stage.

She smiled when she saw me and asked what I was doing.

"I am looking for my clothes, Mistress." I'd decided that was the most
correct form of addressing her. Somehow `Atsumi-san' didn't seem like
something I could easily say. I was a little nervous around her, truth
be told, especially since she had just fucked my ass. "My boss is
waiting for me and I do not wish to displease him." I had my eyes
lowered.

"Your boss has left already. He did not leave your clothes with
Fumiko?"

"No, I don't think so." I looked around, feeling a little helpless.
"He had my purse also."

"Oh my, well this is a problem." The beautiful woman shook her head,
but her lips curled in a mischievous smile.

"What am I going to do. My money, my keys, everything was in there!" I
was feeling very insecure right about then. Yokohama was a long ways
from my apartment in Shinjuku.

"Well, you could come home with me if you would like, and in the
morning you can call him at work. I'm sure it is just a mistake."

"But I have to be to work in the morning!" I was almost in tears.

"Oh, it is not so terrible. He is your boss, he will understand why
you will be late, I think." She was making it sound almost reasonable
and I really did have no alternative. I couldn't afford a train home,
and even if I got there, I couldn't get inside my apartment.

"Maybe." I nodded. "But I do not wish to be a burden to you."

"It is no burden to be someone's friend." She laughed softly and
reached out to touch my cheek. "We will go and have some fun tonight,
you will see, and in the morning everything will be fine."

Atsumi had Fumiko find me a dress. It was about 2 sizes too small,
especially for my breasts, which were large by Japanese standards
anyway, but were now swollen and overly sensitive. The dress was
leather, bright yellow and had a bodice that laced closed, but when I
put it on I was barely able to cover my nipples and the laces hung
free like tassels from my breasts. The bottom of the dress, was a
tight leather skirt that barely covered my ass and it was stretched
about as far as it would go. I was a little dismayed at my appearance,
thinking I looked like a very cheap prostitute, but Atsumi clapped
with approval when she saw me.

She gave me a black leather thong that I struggled to get into and a
pair of patent leather pumps with 4" heels that fit me alright, but
they definitely weren't designed for comfort. The effect when I put
them on was to push my ass up and my breasts out as I had to arch my
back slightly. I hoped we were going straight to Atsumi's apartment,
because just walking through the club as we left was enough to make me
decidedly uncomfortable, even though most of the customers had already
seen my little performance on the stage.

Atsumi was dressed as a Mistress should be, attired as a fetishist wet
dream, as was I admittedly. She wore a black leather dress, longer
than mine and much better fitting. It had a skirt that fell just above
her knees, but was very tight, just the same, as though molded to her
body. The top was more of a corset than a real dress, with a push up
bustier and laced in the back. She wore her black leather gloves,
clinging to her arms up to her elbows and she had her hair pulled back
severely in a knot.

As we were leaving Fumiko hurried over, giving Atsumi a black leather
collar, which she affixed around my neck and to it was attached a
silver chain, like a dog's leash, with a leather looping handle that
Atsumi held. I wasn't too sure about this and I fingered the collar a
little nervously.

"Don't worry, Lisa, it looks very appropriate for you." Atsumi smiled
and gave the leash a little tug. "I will call you slave tonight, and
you will call me Mistress. You will enjoy it, you will see."

"Yes...Mistress." I answered and that seemed to please her a great deal.
We walked out of the club and into the night, hailing a cab to take us
to Yokohama Station.

I was unbearably nervous and I fidgeted in the back seat beside
Atsumi. She touched my leg and I looked down, seeing that the dress
was completely hopeless. It was so short that no matter how I sat my
crotch was completely exposed, the white of my skin contrasting
starkly with the black thong that barely covered my sex.

"Where are we going, Mistress?" I asked her, trying to keep my voice
low, but I saw the driver's head turn slightly and I reddened.

"We will go to Roppongi, slave, but before that I think we must go to
Shibuya, I have something I would like to do first." I cringed a
little as she'd spoken in normal tones, casually, as if calling
someone a slave was a normal thing.

The cab dropped us off at the west entrance of the huge train station
and it was terribly crowded as always. I was beet red as Atsumi led me
by my collar through the crowded plaza and down the wide stairs to the
sublevel where the trains were. People openly stared at us, and there
were a lot of comments made. It was not everyday one saw a stunning
Japanese woman leading a beautiful American around on a leash. It was
humiliating, but it also filled me with a strange happiness, a feeling
of pride perhaps and I could feel Atsumi's confidence radiating from
her in waves and I took strength from that.

By then I had obviously become aware of my secret pleasure at being
publicly humiliated, of being debased and dehumanized even. No doubt
it is plain as you've read my story so far, but hindsight has it's own
clarity that is often lacking as the events themselves unfold. I'll
say I was aware of my desires, but I had not embraced them willingly
before that long walk through Yokohama Station. That, for me, became a
journey from the subconscious yearning to the conscious acceptance of
who and what I was. Or at least the beginning of it.

All of my protestations, my reluctance and embarrassments previous to
this seemed silly and contrived now. I remembered all the times I'd
been shocked and horrified, stunned by what I was being `forced' to
do...like this, being paraded through a crowd of literally thousands of
strangers, dressed as a wanton slut for the pleasure of another, more
dominant person. And yet, for the first time I was able to tell myself
that it made me happy to do so. That this was something that I wanted
very much and if anything I was lucky that Mistress Atsumi had
recognized this, that she was strong enough to make me do it.

I was soaked when we finally boarded our train, my juices staining the
small bit of lining in my thong and even running down my thighs. I
thought of the times I'd been groped on trains similar to this, how
I'd felt violated and told myself I was angry, but I hadn't been. I
smiled to myself, knowing I'd loved every perverse minute of it. I
wished someone would do that now. I wanted someone, a man, a stranger,
to feel my cunt and ass, to fuck me there, in front of all those
people. To make me suck his cock, let him cum on my face, do anything
he liked. I wanted to feel that awful humiliation and worse, I wanted
to show everyone how I enjoyed such treatment.

But no one touched me. Mistress Atsumi was close, the leash connecting
us declared me to be her property, and none of the men present would
contest that. I looked around at them, feeling the superiority that
being owned gave me. I was confident suddenly, strong and inviolable.
`You're all cowards!' I wanted to shout at them as they looked away
from my alien eyes. `Useless cowards who cannot face a woman and take
what you want, but only steal it from behind her back.' I was angry
not at what had been done to me before, but only that I'd once given
weaklings such power over me.

Now it was different though. I gave Mistress Atsumi the power, totally
and completely, denying it to anyone else around me. I looked at her
and she smiled, as though reading my mind. To make my point succinctly
I knelt on the dirty floor of that train, putting my head close to
Mistress Atsumi's skirt, pressing to her thighs and looking up. She
moved her hand to my hair, stroking me as the train rocked back and
forth, moving quickly towards Shinagawa.

At Shinagawa we changed trains and it took another 30 minutes before
we were in Shibuya. Every time now, when we were on a train, or
standing in a queue waiting for a taxi, or when we arrived at a small
shop and went inside, if we stood in one place for longer than a few
minutes, I knelt. It seemed proper somehow and I knew it pleased
Mistress Atsumi very much. I found myself wishing she'd handcuffed me,
and I kept my hands to the small of my back, if I could, while I
knelt, or even walking behind her.

The shop we were in was a BDSM place, selling everything from fetish
wear, to equipment, to magazines and videos. Mistress Atsumi seemed to
be very friendly with the owner, another woman, obviously a
Dominatrix, although not as beautiful as my Mistress. Atsumi unclipped
the leash and told me I could look around if I wished and I thanked
her politely, understanding that she wished to have a private
conversation with her friend.

I'd never been in a BDSM shop before and it was fascinating to me. I
had never imagined some of the things I saw, paddles and whips of all
shapes and sizes. Clothes that looked almost too beautiful to wear.
There were several mannequins dressed and on display. One that I
studied quite intently was wearing a PVC hood, tight fitting and close
to the scalp, with bright steel zippers over the eyes and mouth. This
was paired with a leather jumpsuit, skintight and encasing the body
completely, with gloves and boots. It too had zippers covering the
breasts and the genital area. Another zipper, this one black and
hidden, ran along the spine. The outfit gleamed under the fluorescent
lights and I thought it both lovely and frightening, totally hiding
the person beneath.

"Do you like it?" A soft voice asked me and I turned to see a very
cute and young Japanese woman, dressed in tight black leather shorts
and high heels. She wore no blouse, but instead a collar that was very
wide, covering her neck almost completely. Her breasts were small and
the nipples swollen and cherry red, so red I thought they might be
painted, but they weren't. Her face was delicate, with very high cheek
bones and pouting lips, and her eyes were small and narrow. With her
black hair falling in a sort of uneven shag style around her
shoulders, I thought the girl looked almost mythical in appearance,
like an elf or some dark nymph who should be dancing in the moonlight.

"Yes." I smiled. "I like it very much."

"You are Mistress Atsumi's." It wasn't a question. "That is good, she
has been lonely I think."

"I do not understand what you mean." I hadn't yet considered what if
anything my relationship with Atsumi was, beyond the immediate
pleasure of being in each other's company.

"Mistress Atsumi has not taken a lover in some time." The girl
shrugged, "but perhaps I am saying too much." She decided to try and
change the subject. "Your Japanese is very good."

"No, please, I wish to know what you mean." I moved a little closer to
the woman. "I thought Fumiko-san is her lover."

She smiled at me then. "Fumiko is Mistress Atsumi's sister. Not her
lover."

"Oh." I stood back a little at that. There was a similarity, I
supposed, once I considered it. But honestly, I would not have noticed
it on my own. It was their eyes, Mistress Atsumi and Fumiko, they had
the same eyes in shape and color. Not so dissimilar from other
Japanese women, perhaps, but wonderfully unique when one was staring
into them, as I had been.

"I am Jun." She nodded in the direction of Mistress Atsumi. "My
Mistress is called Kami."

"My name is Lisa, although tonight my Mistress has said she will only
call me slave." I bowed to Jun, not too deeply, but as one used in
business with equals.

The young woman returned the gesture with a smile. "You are taught
well, Lisa-san."

Just then Kami called to Jun and I looked over, but Mistress Atsumi
did not look at me, so I remained where I was. A few minutes later the
woman returned, carrying my leash. She clipped it onto my collar and
smiled. "I have been instructed to find you a gift." She tugged at me
and I followed, curious as to what she meant.

We moved to a corner that displayed dildos and vibrators of all shapes
and sizes. They were arranged neatly in ornate boxes behind a sample
that was standing, laying, or leaning in front of them. "Do I get to
choose?" I asked, feeling a little self-conscious as we stared at the
assorted collection.

"No, I will choose for you." Jun chuckled softly and selected a cream
colored butt plug that was perhaps 6 inches long. It was bluntly
rounded at the tip and swelled quickly to perhaps 7 or 8 inches around
at the widest point, before narrowing again to almost nothing where
the soft flexible rubber base was connected to it. The plug looked
huge to me and I thought Jun must be joking.

"I do not think it will fit!" I giggled nervously as the girl held it
up.

"You do not think so, but you do not know." She grinned at me slyly.
"Come with me now." She picked up a package, opening the lid and
looking in to see that it was the same, and put the display back in
it's place. She led me to what was ostensibly a changing room, like a
small closet with a curtain that closed with Velcro strips.

She had me bend over, placing my hands on the plastic cushioned bench
against the far wall and I felt her pulling my thong down. "You have a
beautiful ass, Lisa-san." She caressed me for a moment, running her
fingers across my slit and then my anus, teasing me and making me
shiver slightly. "You're Mistress told me I could play with you, so
you must let me."

I nodded. "Yes, please, I like it." I breathed.

I closed my eyes as she rubbed my pussy gently, working her fingers
back and forth across my lips until they became fat and rubbery and
slick with wetness. It felt nice and she moved her fingertips to find
my clitoris, stroking the tiny bud and making me murmur my approval. A
few minutes later, just as it was feeling very good, I felt something
else rubbing my slit. I thought at first it was  the butt plug, but
then it was warm, and shaped not at all like the hard blunt plastic of
that dildo. This was more like...

My eyes opened wide and I liked over my shoulder as the head of Jun's
penis lodged in my hole. She?...He?...pushed, grabbing my hips and
pulling at the same time so that her cock pushed delightfully into my
ready vagina, stretching me nicely and making me grunt softly.

"You...you're a man?" I asked stupidly, feeling the penis sliding back
and forth inside me. I wondered how she'd hidden her penis so
effectively in the tight shorts, now down around her ankles.

"I am whatever Mistress Kami desires me to be." She was saying as she
fucked me at a nice slow pace. I still regarded Jun as a she, even
though the cock inside me gave lie to that. It felt good, not very
large perhaps, but enough. "It pleases her now to make me a woman."
Jun's hands moved up to fondle my sore breasts through the bodice of
my dress. "Soon I will have breasts like yours."

I moaned softly and Jun picked up the pace, thrusting her cock deep so
that I could feel her soft balls slapping my tiny erect clitoris and
bringing me to the edge of an orgasm.

"Cum for me, Lisa-san. Cum on my cock for me now." She was whispering
in my ear, bent over me now and working her prick in short quick
stabs, rather than long slow strokes.

"Yessss..." I hissed through clenched teeth and my body gave in to the
pleasure completely. I gave a sharp little cry and then only low
mewling sounds as I felt a hundred soft explosions deep between my
legs.

Jun gave me my moment and then slowly withdrew her penis. "What are
you doing? Don't stop, please Jun, I want you to cum also!" I was
looking over my shoulder with half-lidded eyes, panting and feeling my
pussy protesting the sudden emptiness.

"Thank you, Lisa-san." Jun smiled at me. Her face too was flushed and
her eyes were shining with the need to orgasm. "I will cum, but only
in your ass." With that she pushed the head so quickly past my
sphincter that she was inside before I'd even fully translated her
words. "I've never fucked an American before, Lisa, I expected you to
be so much bigger inside."

I groaned loudly and felt my ass being split apart as it instinctively
resisted. Jun was smaller than the dildo Mistress Atsumi had used
earlier, and much better lubricated for the penetration, but it still
burned a little and I knew she was enjoying the tight warmth of my
anus around her cock as she went deeper.

Jun fucked me good for five minutes or so, reaching around my hips to
play with my cunt and bringing me to another shuddering climax as she
pumped her cock deep and gasped, flooding my butt with warm semen. It
felt good and we paused for a moment, her body pressing down on my
back, while we both caught our breath. I turned my head so Jun could
kiss me sweetly on the lips and I thanked the Japanese transsexual for
making me feel so good.

When Jun pulled out, she immediately unwrapped my gift and had me
spread the cheeks of my ass so she could push the plug inside my sperm
filled rectum. "That is so beautiful, Lisa-san!" She was giggling and
pushing hard until the extreme width of the toy had stretched my
sphincter to almost unbearable limits. I was shaking and moaning and
then let out the breath I was holding as it popped inside and my
sphincter closed tightly behind it. Jun continued the pressure until
the small molded rubbed base was snug to my wrinkled little hole and
it disappeared from sight as I was finally able to let go of my
cheeks.

I stood up feeling more than a small bit of discomfort as the plug
inside me seemed to push against my body like an insistent cramp.

"How does it feel, Lisa-san?" Jun asked, standing there with her penis
hanging from her girl's body, semi-erect and covered with the remains
of my ass fucking. I stared at it and dropped slowly to my knees.

"It feels very nice, Jun-san. Let me thank you properly for this
gift." I took her penis in mouth, sucking gently and tasting my ass on
it. It was slightly bitter, almost acrid, but I didn't mind it. I
wanted to clean her as best I could, and I circled my tongue around
the head, licking at the soft ridge with the tip of my tongue before
taking her 5" completely inside me. I bathed her cock thoroughly with
my tongue and moved to her balls, pressing the shaft to my face as I
suckled at the smooth shaven sack, soft and silky.

I would have been content to let Jun cum in my mouth, to swallow her
sweet cream, but she lifted my face tenderly when she got close. "We
must stop now." Jun told me. "My Mistress will expect me to perform
for her later and if you make me cum again, I will be punished."

"Is that a bad thing?" I giggled and gave the head of her cock one
last suck.

Jun laughed also, "No, Lisa-san, the punishment is not bad for me, but
only the disappointment to my Mistress." She pulled me to my feet and
pulled my thong up my legs before fixing her shorts. I watched as Jun
pushed her swollen cock almost painfully down between her legs, so it
curled under her balls and the head nestled against her ass. It looked
uncomfortable, but when she pulled up her shorts it was difficult to
believe she had a penis hidden away there.

I walked a little slowly, a little awkwardly, against the pressure in
my anus from the butt plug. I felt every little motion and it did hurt
if I wasn't careful how I moved, the plug was very large, not in
length but in girth. Mistress Atsumi watched me and smiled, knowing
already the reason for my delicate steps. Jun and I approached the two
women and I bowed very low, thinking that it was appropriate, but the
motion brought an intense discomfort that made me draw a sharp breath.

Mistress Atsumi watched with seeming disinterest as I straightened
slowly back up, keeping my head down, but my eyes up fearful that I'd
displeased her somehow.

"Did you fit her with the largest one, Jun?" Kami asked and the girl
nodded that she had. "And did you give her something to keep her warm
also?" Her voice was teasing and I blushed slightly.

"Yes Mistress." Jun replied.

Mistress Atsumi took the leash from Jun's hand, moving so that she
could reach beneath my too short skirt and rub my ass, working her
fingers deep to feel the base of the plug and giving it a little
push-pull, ensuring it was securely inside me.

"Perhaps we will skip Roppongi tonight, slave." She spoke softly. "I
feel the need for better entertainment."

-0-0-0-

end of part one
This story has been broken into two parts to facilitate posting on the
internet.
To Be continued in Turning Japanese Pt.2

-0-0-0-

rache696@yahoo.com

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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