Message-ID: <48980asstr$1093421416@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: <news@google.com> X-Original-To: ckought69@hotmail.com Delivered-To: ckought69@hotmail.com X-Original-Path: not-for-mail From: rache696@yahoo.com (Rache) X-Original-Message-ID: <24fa9435.0408242056.7eff1410@posting.google.com> Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit NNTP-Posting-Date: Wed, 25 Aug 2004 04:56:07 +0000 (UTC) X-ASSTR-Original-Date: 24 Aug 2004 21:56:07 -0700 Subject: {ASSM} Turning Japanese Pt.2 (M+/F, F+/F, Dog+/F, Humil, Reluct, BDSM, Body Mod, TG, WS, Best, Drug) Lines: 1423 Date: Wed, 25 Aug 2004 04:10:16 -0400 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/Year2004/48980> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, dennyw 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 2 of 2 -0-0-0- Turning Japanese (Part 2) by rachael We took our leave of the shop and walked several blocks to another place, this one on the 5th floor of a long, but very narrow building. There was an elevator, but we took the stairs, largely to make me feel the effects of 136 steps on the plug in my ass and the extremely arched shoes on my feet. It was a slow torture and very subtle in design, I thought. I could feel Jun's sperm in my ass, moving fluidly around the plastic that stretched me so thoroughly. It was not entirely unpleasant. This place was a body modification shop, primarily for piercing it seemed, although it was apparent that branding and tattooing were also available. There were large display cases with all forms of rings, bars, and oddly shaped metal devices designed to penetrate, stretch, or compress the flesh. On the walls were photographs, large and small, in color and black and white, of actual piercing, brandings, and tattoos. I had never been in such a place in my life and I swallowed nervously, wondering why we were here, but instinctively knowing it was for my benefit. The man who owned the place was older, with long white hair and a beard, strange for a Japanese who generally have little regard for facial hair. He was slight and dressed normally enough. It was also obvious that he knew Mistress Atsumi very well. My Mistress bowed low before him briefly and this surprised me so much that I did not move at all. "She is American?" He asked immediately, not bothering with even the most rudimentary greetings. This again surprised me, as polite and proper greetings are a cultural institution for the most part. "Yes." Mistress Atsumi said and gave me a sharp glance. I regained my senses then and bowed at once to the man, able to ignore the protesting discomfort of my ass. I bent at the waist as low as possible and held it until I heard him speak again, perhaps 10 seconds later. It seemed a very long time. "Does she speak Japanese?" He wondered and I had the impression he'd never seen an American before, ridiculous as that may sound. "It is passable, she is learning slowly." Mistress Atsumi replied as I straightened up again. "Slave, greet this man. His name is Keiyu." I had my eyes lowered properly as I spoke as well as I knew how. "Master Keiyu, it is an honor for this humble slave to be in your presence." I frowned as I knew at once that my pronunciation of several words had been flawed. "I beg your patience for my ignorant tongue." The man laughed happily and clapped his hands, as if he'd just witnessed a trained seal bouncing a ball on it's nose. It was very impolite of him, I thought, to mock my efforts at pleasing him. I wondered then if Mistress Atsumi was equally displeased, but I couldn't dare to look, instead I merely closed my eyes tightly and felt small tears beginning to run down my hot cheeks. "You will always surprise me, Atsumi!" The man chortled. "But it is good to see you so happy again. It has been too long since I have seen you, daughter." Daughter? I almost looked up in surprise. I did not know if he'd used the word literally or figuratively. Daughter was not a term of familiarity that I'd heard in common use. I thought it must be the truth and the idea of being presented in this fashion to Mistress Atsumi's father was almost distressing to me. There was no practical experience I could draw upon to give their relationship context. My own father was an insurance adjuster, he knew as little about my personal relationships as I did about brain surgery. But Mistress Atsumi and her father seemed to be much more intimate than that. "This is what I would like for her." Mistress Atsumi was handing the man a piece of paper covered with kanji in her delicate script. Keiyu looked over the note carefully, rubbing his beard at one point. "Have you discussed this with her?" He looked at Atsumi hard, reminding me of the way my father looked at me when he thought I was making a mistake. "No. I do not have to, she is my slave." Mistress Atsumi tugged the leash and I dropped to my knees in response. "She will accept what I ask of her." "She is not Aijen, Atsumi." Her father's voice was soft and I wondered at what this was about. Obviously Mistress Atsumi wished to do something to me, but I had no idea what that was. I assumed that whatever it was would be permanent and I was torn between wanting to have it done, whatever it might be, without having any choice; and the more sensible desire to exercise some control over what happened to my body. "I know that, father." Atsumi was speaking quietly. "But I know this woman. I know what she wishes, even if she herself does not. Do you doubt it?" She seemed to be challenging the old man and he shook his head. "I do not doubt that you believe that, Atsumi." "So then you will do it?" Atsumi crossed her arms, pulling my leash inadvertently so that I had to lean forward with my head to her thigh. "You must ask her." The man gave Atsumi back the paper. "I will not do it like this." "I will ask her now then. You will see I am right." Atsumi reached down and touched my face, lifting my chin with her fingertips so I looked into her face. It seemed clouded by something, fear perhaps, or uncertainty, like she wasn't so self-assured as she'd professed herself to be. "Slave..." She paused. "Lisa-san, do you wish me to free you, right now? I will give you back your things, Fumiko has them, and you will leave me and we will never speak again. Do you wish this?" I was not so surprised at her admission that Fumiko had my clothing and my purse, I'd actually suspected as much. It had given our little game a wonderful pretext. I thought about the evening and how I'd seemed to learn and grow at every step. I felt loved and wanted by this woman, as I'd never been before, and even now I could see hope shining in her eyes. I didn't know what, if anything I was accepting, or losing. Somehow that didn't seem to matter, because Mistress Atsumi would know, and she would protect me, I was certain of it. "No Mistress, I do not wish to be free." I couldn't help but put my arms around her waist as I knelt there. "Please do not send me away." "Do you love me, Lisa-san?" "Yes Mistress." "Do you trust me also?" "Yes Mistress, I love and trust you." "Will you give yourself to me now, here in front of my father, as my slave and lover?" "Yes Mistress." "You must say it, Lisa-san." "I give myself to you, Mistress Atsumi, my body and my heart and my spirit and my mind. I will be your slave and I will be your lover in all things. I swear this to you, before your father and all of the world. I beg you to accept this humble offering, Mistress." I do not know where those words came from. It seemed as though another voice had spoken through my lips, a different me, unknown and unsuspected, lurking and waiting within my heart for this precise moment in time. It is a very Japanese concept that every thing and every person has a perfect state of existence, a harmony in which they are most pure and most content. I had heard of it, read of it, but never experienced or even believed in it, until right then. Giving myself to this woman, a stranger it had taken 26 years and 10,000 miles to find, was my perfect moment. "I accept you Lisa-san." Mistress Atsumi said softly and I wept gently, feeling myself suddenly overcome by emotions I had never experienced before. She stroked my face lovingly and smiled at her father. "Huh." The older man grunted, but accepted me also. "She has a lot to learn, but that is your concern now. Come with me." I was led to a small room with a chair that seemed like a cross between a dentist's chair and an OB/GYN examination table. I was told to undress completely and I did so, feeling only a little shyness as Mistress Atsumi's father watched me intently. Mistress Atsumi had stayed behind and I felt perhaps more uncomfortable being out of her presence than anything else. "You may call me father now." He told me as he positioned me in the chair, bringing stirrups into place, wide apart so I had to spread my legs, exposing my sex to him. "I will pierce you tonight, 8 times, and when those are healed I will do additional piercings until your Mistress is satisfied." "Yes father." I nodded, swallowing nervously as 8 piercings sounded like quite a lot to a woman with only pierced earlobes. He was washing my sex with surgical soap, having put on some thin rubber gloves already. It was a gentle but thorough process that left my pussy tingling. I felt his fingers inside me, not far, just enough to find my inner lips. "This is the Labia Minora." He identified them for me, spreading my outer lips and pulling the inner so that I could see them, small and bright pink from the scrubbing. "I will pierce them both, 3 times on each side, and set interlocking rings into them. You will be able to urinate, to have your menstruation, but you will not be able to penetrate your vagina with much more than your little finger. You're hole is very small anyway, so perhaps not even that. Do you understand this?" I nodded again. "Yes father, I understand." "That is called female infibulation and it will keep you chaste. I will also pierce your clitoris." His fingers were stroking the hood of my clit, coaxing the small bundle of nerves to stiffen and emerge from her shy retreat. It felt good and I blushed slightly as I watched the man's expert fingers coax my clit to her full erect state, all of perhaps a quarter inch in length, softly rounded and ruddy. It was aching already and the thought of having it pierced filled me with fear. "Do not worry, child, I have done this many times before. It will be painful, but I will not injure you." He gave me what I hoped was a comforting smile. I just gulped and nodded. My clit was very sensitive sometimes. "Lastly I will pierce you here." He traced a finger just above my sex, on the fat little swell of my pubis. "A pubic piercing. It is good you are shaved already, it will make it easier. But you will not be able to shave again until it is well healed. The other piercings will heal in a month, maybe 6 weeks at the most, but this one may take longer. Your Mistress will know how to care for them." "I understand, father." It seemed strange calling him that when I considered it in English, as if he were a priest, but in Japanese it was better, with a meaning closer to Daddy. Atsumi returned and I could see she was carrying several small plastic bags containing 7 rings and one long bar with some kind of curling metal thing attached to it. The rings were small enough, I thought, but the bar looked thick and despite my fear for my clit, it was the last piercing that I had the most difficult time accepting. My skin looked so soft there, so tender. Keiyu took the bags and dumped the contents into a metallic device used for sterilization, closing the lid and turning a dial, then flipping a little switch. "It will take some time before everything is clean." He looked down at me and Atsumi smiled at him. "Would you like to take her, father?" She asked him sweetly. "I have washed her already." The man said. "But you can always wash her again." Atsumi persisted. "It is fitting perhaps that her new father will be the last man she will ever have inside her cunt." The vulgar word widened my eyes and once again I tried to imagine myself saying such a thing in front of my real dad and I couldn't. Keyu nodded and smiled, laughing as he undid his trousers and revealing a very large penis that soon grew to full erection. Mistress Atsumi pulled a stool close to the chair I was in and sat down next to me, leaning her face close to mine as he we both watched her father rubbing his penis across my slit. "I have never been with a man, slave." Mistress Atsumi whispered, the tip of her tongue tickling my ear. "But if I did, it would be with our father. Enjoy it for me." She said it almost angrily I thought and grabbed a fistful of my hair, turning my face to kiss me hard, pushing her tongue deep into my mouth at the same moment Keiyu pushed his cock into the furthest reaches of my cunt in one swift motion. The effect of being fucked by a large penis, combined with the large plug still stretching my ass, was so intense as I felt more full than I'd ever been before in my life. It seemed he was touching me inside in places that I'd never known existed. I could feel the friction between his shaft and the butt plug through the thin sensitive walls of flesh that separated them and the effect was deliciously wicked. I was cumming almost at once, having been primed by his earlier touches and the knowledge that this might be the last cock I would have in my womb. Mistress Atsumi continued kissing me the entire time. It seemed our mouths could never tire of each other and I felt her hand massaging my breasts, squeezing and manipulating the flesh until my nipples burned and felt as though they would leap from my body. I felt her leather clad fingers tracing my welts, exploring my bruised tits, digging into my body painfully when she wanted to elicit a sharp yelp from my open mouth. She drank all of that experience, breathing my moans and sighs until I could barely control my own body. I was jerking off the chair, thrusting my cunt against the cock invading me, arching my back to press my tits to Mistress Atsumi's palms, and working my tongue frantically against hers. My orgasm's were rapid and they stole all sense from my mind. When father came, it was deep inside my sex, flooding me with his sperm and I enjoyed it immensely. I found myself almost wishing that I hadn't been on the pill, that I could have conceived a child by this last man to cum inside my cunt. I might have had a daughter, a sister for Mistress Atsumi and I to love, but this was only the idle dreaming of the rapture in which I was caught. It took a very long time for my heart to slow again and for my lungs to stop their ragged heaving. Father cleaned my sex gently, using a washcloth and a small douche to wash me inside. He placed a pan beneath my sex and I watched as his sperm flowed out of me, thin and weak as the man bathed my womb with warm water. The piercings themselves did not take so long to perform and were only mildly painful. He did my inner labia first, as he'd promised, using canula needles, that left a small plastic sleeve behind when they passed through my body. He used circlip pliers to open each ring, which were not ball closures, like the one that would go through my clit, but more like small hoop earrings, with a narrow end that fit into the hollow of the other end. He put three in each of my labia minora, spaced equally apart by perhaps a quarter of an inch, and interlocked as he'd described so that my pussy was effectively shut to any penetration. It was forced chastity and my emotional response was curious, I didn't know how I'd feel about that in the days, weeks, possibly even years to come. The piercing of my clitoris was next and I fidgeted nervously as I was prepared for it. All of the rings in my labia were 2mm gauge surgical steel, but the one in my clit was a smaller, only 1.6mm and made of 18 carat gold. It was a ball closure ring with the ball itself made from a small 4mm pearl. It was beautiful to look at and father told me he would have preferred to use a less ornamental surgical steel ring until I'd healed, then replaced it, but Mistress Atsumi had insisted on this. He rubbed my clit once again, but this time engaged my tender flesh with a surgical clamp, like a small scissors but designed for squeezing, not cutting, with which he gripped the base of my clit and pulled it outward slightly. This wasn't so much painful as it was dramatically over-stimulating and I trembled slightly, biting my lips as Mistress Atsumi held me in her arms and whispered soft words of encouragement. Father did the actual piercing quickly after that and it did hurt, but not nearly so bad as I'd imagined. He did it as he'd done with my labia, using a canula needle, pushing it through completely until a plastic sleeve penetrated my clit, then threading the ring through the sleeve. He removed the sleeve and fitted the pearl ball closure and let the ring close shut. It was over in only a few minutes and I stared at the new jewelry I sported, hanging from my tender clitoris like a pale drop of milk. Mistress Atsumi was kissing me as I relaxed, smiling in relief that the procedure had been so simple. It was probably harder for father than for me, trying to juggle the clamp, the needle, the circlip pliers, and the ring. I giggled and told him he needed an assistant and he took it good naturedly, smiling up at me and telling me that sharing would take half the fun out of it. Lastly was the pubic piercing. Instead of a ring, I would be fitted with a 3.2mm diameter bar that was about 12cm long. On that bar would fit a `D-Ring' like a half-circle with the ends curled, through which the bar would be threaded. It would be a deep piercing, not merely through the skin or a bit of flesh, but through the mound of my sex which, father explained, was more or less a build up of fatty tissue. There was no danger of hitting anything vital, but it would be more painful than any of the others and it would swell and require a long time to heal. He would be going very nearly a half inch deep he thought, maybe more at the center, because of the shape of my pubis. Some women were more flat, others more rounded, he told me I was fortunate because I was one of the latter, with a nice plump and narrow swell. He would not even need to pinch me too awfully much, he smiled, which was a fortunate circumstance as it would look more attractive, he thought. The bar looked very thick and was fashioned from surgical steel as was the D-ring with which it was mated. For this piercing father would use a more traditional piercing needle, it was sharp and designed for cutting as it was inserted, but unlike the canula it was not designed with a sleeve in mind, especially one so long as we required. The needle itself was larger than the bar, 3.5mm in diameter, and as it was pushed through me, Keiyu would follow it immediately with the bar, moving them both together using his skill at the art to complete my piercing. There were other methods, but this was exciting for him and he preferred the traditional, manual method, as he called it, rather than using an artificial guide. As he prepared what he needed, bringing the tools and materials fresh from the autoclave, father asked me if I would like some anesthetic, just a local that could be sprayed on. It would not eliminate all of the pain, but it would lessen some of it. I shook my head, I wanted to feel everything, to have the experienced etched indelibly into my memory. That pleased Mistress Atsumi, I knew, and our father as well I think. He began the piercing by measuring me, using a sterilized needle dipped in iodine to make to small reddish marks on my flesh, the entry and exit points. The bar would be centered approximately one inch above my clitoris, at the peak of my pubis. I held my breath as Mistress Atsumi held me and father began pushing the needle with a slow and deliberate pressure. A small amount of blood appeared, but this did not distract him in the least. My legs tightened and I pressed hard to the stirrups that held my feet, but I fought to remain as still as possible. It hurt very, very much and my face was soon bathed in sweat, but it was endurable as long as my Mistress stayed with me. As the needle went through and finally emerged exactly on the small iodine spot where it was supposed to, I let out a deep breath and hitched another with a soft sobbing sound. My eyes were wet with tears, but I hoped the worst was over. Blood trickled down my pale skin and it was just a matter now of pulling the needle clear while following it closely with the bar. The D-ring was fitted over one end and as the bar emerged from my flesh it was threaded through the other side. There was perhaps an eighth of an inch of room on each end of the bar, and onto those were fitted small steel balls, twisted on using pliers. This pulled the bar slightly against my freshly pierced flesh and I winced, but it was over very quickly. I now had a horizontal D-ring attached permanently to my body, just between my legs at the top of my vagina. It was four inches across and hung 2 inches below the bar holding it in place, so that it actually fell below my clitoris, framing it sweetly. I thought it looked amazing and I quickly forgot the pain it had caused. Now all I had was a dull throbbing sensation that seemed so trivial it was barely worth noticing. Father washed me gently again, then took a number of photos, asking me to spread my pussy at one point so that the rings in my inner lips could be more easily seen. After taking the pictures, he applied a medicinal cream to fight infection and handed me the tube to take with me. He told me what to watch for as I healed, and how to care for my piercings, but didn't go into a lot of detail. He repeated that Mistress Atsumi knew how to care for me. He said the best thing now would be to go home and lie down, to remain off my feet for a few days, and let my body take care of itself. All of this sounded very good to me because I was very tired then. I did put my panties back on and I both walked and sat very carefully on the way to Mistress Atsumi's apartment. She lived near the Ginza, the great shopping district and her apartments were generous by Japanese standards, on the eighth floor of a large complex. She led me to a bedroom, which seemed largely to be used for storage at the moment, and told me it would be mine. She found me a simple kimono, of the casual sort used for relaxing in the privacy of one's home or garden, and left to make us tea while I changed. I was moving slowly and the dress was tight and difficult to remove, but I managed. I found Mistress Atsumi in the kitchen, she had undressed as the water heated and now stood wearing only a silk robe, belted around her waist. She smiled when she saw me and placed our tea, sugar, cream, and some small pastries on a tray and I followed her to a large balcony. It was secluded and filled with plants so that it resembled a terrace garden. One could almost ignore the city spread out behind the thick shrubbery and trees that crowded the wrought iron railing. Mistress Atsumi and I sat close together in small lounge chairs, sipping our tea and talking. We discussed who we were, where we'd come from, our experiences growing up, sharing the little things that make us who we are. It was very much like a first date, that nervous talk when you hope you won't say something silly, or that your interests won't seem utterly boring. The difference of course was that I'd already given myself to this woman, even though I had no real understanding of why or how. It had just happened. How dreadful it might have been then to find that we had nothing in common, that we were not meant for each other after all. Luckily, that was not the case. If anything I found myself even more drawn to this incredibly beautiful Japanese woman. Every word she said rang familiar to me, echoing a similar thought, or feeling, or experience in my own life. I think my words had the same effect on her as well. At some point our tea was forgotten and I found myself embraced in her arms, kissing the woman passionately as she whispered soft words of love into my ears. I, who had never had a lesbian experience in my life until that evening, was hopelessly enamored with my new Mistress. It was late when Fumiko arrived. She and Mistress Atsumi shared everything it seemed; ownership of the BDSM club, the apartment, and me. Fumiko found us still on the terrace, quietly sitting and almost sleeping by then in the warm summer night. She had prepared a snack and sat down to eat it, smiling at us as she discussed what had happened at the club, small business things that were of no major importance. Mistress Atsumi in her turn told Fumiko that I had given myself to her completely, news that did not seem to surprise Fumiko, nor was it immediately apparent if she was pleased or displeased. I was very tired by then and it was too difficult to try and understand the girl. I woke up the next day and it was almost noon. I felt very sore between my legs and somewhat itchy and I reached down to scratch myself before I remembered my piercings. Fumiko was awake already and she smiled and gave me a cheerful greeting when I wandered into the kitchen. She told me her sister was still sleeping but that she was glad I was awake because we had many things to do. The first being to feed me and then get me cleaned up. I was very hungry and after a breakfast of rice and scrambled eggs with some small sausages, Fumiko took me into the bathroom. It was arranged in traditional fashion, although somewhat larger than the usual that I'd seen. It was separated into three areas by sliding doors. There was a small toilet, a large white and blue tiled area for bathing, which had both a shower and a large tub beneath a spigot, filled with water. There were eyebolts embedded in the floor near the walls, which seemed curious. The last room contained the hot bath, similar in shape and size to a nice Jacuzzi. Fumiko undressed me completely and then undressed herself. She had me turn around and bend over so she could remove the butt plug from my ass, grimacing at it when she saw how dirty it was. I had become so used to it that I hadn't even realized it was still inside me while I'd slept. She told me to use the toilet while she washed it for me, but that after that morning I would have to take care of it myself. I would wear the plug at all times, removing it only for bathing and for using the toilet. It was to be a part of me, like my piercings. After my toilet we washed Japanese fashion. First with cold water spooned from the large tub, washing ourselves thoroughly. Fumiko washed my piercings carefully and explained to me that there would be some swelling and some discoloration and discharge, but that was normal. She would check me everyday, or Mistress Atsumi would, until they were healed fully. Next we took a hot bath in the very large tub, heated through the bottom by natural gas. It was not for washing, of course, only for soaking, for relaxing after the cold bath. Normally such baths could be long and leisurely affairs, but Fumiko warned me that it was not good to bathe new piercings too often or for too long, so our bath was short. She dried me carefully and applied medication to my piercings and reapplied the butt plug into my ass. She dressed me in a pair of old jogging pants and a sweatshirt, it was the best she could do until my own clothes were brought over. We would go to my apartment now, she told me, and bring some things, moving slowly, a little day by day until I could easily close my apartment. It was then that I suddenly remembered work and I nearly panicked. I was telling Fumiko I had to call my boss, I had to make an excuse, or something, I didn't know what I was going to do. It was after 1pm already, I'd missed most of the day. Fumiko was shaking her head, wondering why I was fussing. "You do not work there anymore." She laughed at me. ""What? Of course I do! I have to! Oh my God!" I was reaching for the telephone when Mistress Atsumi walked out of her bedroom, asking Fumiko what was going on. She smiled at me and gave me a tender hug when she heard the explanation. "Slave, you do not belong to that company, you belong to me. You will do as Fumiko tells you and then tonight you will write a letter of resignation, do you understand me?" She looked at me sternly. "I..." My mind was reeling. Is this what I had agreed to, and if so, was it what I wanted? I'd invested my life in that job. Years of hard work to get an education and now...? "I am frightened, Mistress." I had to be honest. I couldn't agree or disagree yet and I was glad that Mistress Atsumi accepted this. "You do not need to be. I will take care of you, as I have promised. There is nothing to fear." She put her arms around my neck, looking into my eyes. "I love you, Lisa-san, and I will keep you with me always." I breathed a sigh of relief and nodded. I had to trust her, it was the only way. "Then I will do as you tell me, Mistress." "Good." She smiled and kissed me lightly. "After this, I will punish you for such behavior, but this time I will forgive you." "Thank you, Mistress. I am sorry." I lowered my head, feeling very sorry indeed. "Is your ass prepared?" Mistress Atsumi felt for my butt plug through the thin cotton of the jogging pants, giving it a little push. "And your piercings, are they well?" "They are fine, Mistress." I nodded. "Come with me now then, I will teach you one of your duties as my slave." I glanced at Fumiko and she merely smiled and lifted an eyebrow. I followed Mistress Atsumi into the bathroom, into the area where I had washed myself earlier. "Take off your clothes, slave." Mistress Atsumi told me and I looked at her, not understanding, but I did as she asked, handing them to Fumiko who stood in the doorway. Mistress Atsumi opened her silk robe, exposing her naked body to me and I could see the dark tangle of her pubic hair. "Get down, slave, I require your mouth now." I had been waiting for this, wondering when my Mistress would teach me how to please her with my tongue and lips, but a little confused as to why she wanted it then and there. I had tasted myself before of course, but never another woman's sex and I was a little nervous. I wanted to please her, but I felt myself shy and awkward, fearing that I wouldn't do it properly. I knelt and leaned forward, parting my lips slightly and staring at the outline of her sex through the shadow of her hair. Mistress Atsumi surprised me by putting her hands in my hair, pulling my mouth to her hard and bending her knees slightly, to press her slit to my lips. "Every morning, slave, you shall do this for me. Drink now, carefully, do not make a mess or I will be unhappy." With those words Mistress Atsumi began urinating into my mouth and I tried to jerk instinctively away, but her grip was tight and she stopped her flow until I had calmed. "Try again, slave." She said patiently, relaxing her muscles and once again filling my mouth with hot piss. I swallowed this time, feeling deep humiliation and revulsion at being forced to do this. It was hot, slightly salty and acrid, almost acidic as it filled my stomach. Several times I came close to retching and I thought I would throw up any second. I managed to drink perhaps half of Mistress Atsumi's urine, the rest running down my face and neck, into my hair and across my breasts and body. I felt despoiled and dirty and there were tears in my eyes as I stared down at the tiles, pooled with her yellowish waste. I could feel her staring at me, both of the women, Fumiko and my Mistress and I was terribly shamed. "You did very poorly, slave." Mistress Atsumi frowned and grabbed my jaw in her fingers, tilting my head up to face her. "Is my piss not good enough for you?" I couldn't answer, my lower lip trembled and I had tears running down my flushed red cheeks. "I'm sorry, Mistress." I whispered. "Please...L-Let me try again." I moved my mouth back towards her sex but she pushed me away. "Tomorrow, slave, I have no more for you now. You've wasted it and you've made a mess of my bath. Clean this before you leave." She turned to her sister. "Fumiko, see that she is suitably punished, I will be at the club tonight." "Yes Mistress." Fumiko smiled at me. I cleaned the bath, it wasn't difficult, and washed my body and hair very quickly. I felt slightly nauseas still, Mistress Atsumi's urine in my stomach seemed to burn slightly, but it was probably just my mind overreacting. I dressed in the jogging suit again, looking very plain and shabby I thought, especially when I saw that Fumiko had dressed very nicely, with her face made up perfectly. She was a small beautiful Japanese girl, and by comparison I felt like an ugly American cow. "Where is your collar, Lisa-san?" She asked me pointedly and I did not know. I hadn't even realized it had been removed while I slept. "Find it, you must never leave this place without it." I nodded and went to my bedroom, but couldn't find it there. I paused and then went to the terrace and searched frantically. It had suddenly become very important to me, although I couldn't then express why. I found it finally in the living room, sitting atop the television and I breathed a sigh of relief as I put it around my neck, buckling it into place while Fumiko waited impatiently. "You are responsible for the collar around your neck and the plug in your ass. I will not remind you of these things again, I will only report it to our Mistress and she will be unhappy with you." She sounded angry and I lowered my eyes, bowing to her. "Forgive me Fumiko-san, I will not forget. Thank you." It seemed to placate the smaller woman and we left for my apartment. Fumiko had retuned the night before with my keys and nothing more it seemed. If she'd brought the rest of my purse or my clothes, she made no mention of it and I didn't ask. We took a train to Shinjuku and then a short cab ride to my apartment building. Inside Fumiko had me get my mail, my important personal papers, my passport, and any other small items I desired to have nearby. I grabbed my laptop and a few music CD's, my diary, and packed a single small suitcase with clothes. Fumiko allowed me to change and I was able to dress nicely and makeup my face, brush my hair and teeth. In all we were there less than an hour and soon traveling back to my new home. We stayed just long enough to put my things in my bedroom and then we left again, this time going to the Ginza to do some shopping. I had no money, but Fumiko didn't seem to care. We bought a lot of personal items for me, especially makeup, perfumes, scented oils and soaps, innumerable beauty products really. I briefly wondered if Fumiko was trying to say something about my personal hygiene. We bought some clothing, but it was all for wearing around the apartment. A silk robe, some house slippers, pajamas, nightgowns, that sort of thing. I wasn't used to that, having been accustomed to just sleeping in an oversized t-shirt and panties for much of my life. By the time we carted our purchases back to the apartment it was nearly 6pm and we left again, this time going out for dinner. We hadn't spoken much during the day. I was uncertain of Fumiko's attitude towards me, which seemed at times to be warm and friendly, almost loving, and at other times the woman was distant, cold in a way. Fumiko herself did not deign to enlighten me, speaking to me only when it was necessary. At dinner I decided to find out, if I could, what the woman really thought of me. We were in a nice restaurant that specialized in Kobe Steaks and the prices were ridiculous, even by Tokyo standards. Fumiko ordered for the both of us and we had a bottle of wine while we waited. "Fumiko-san." I spoke slowly. "Are you angry with me?" "No, I'm not, why do you ask?" "I would like very much to be your friend." I chose my words carefully. "I am only afraid that I have disappointed you in some way. If I have...displeased you...I beg your forgiveness, Fumiko-san." "You do not displease me, Lisa." She smiled and adopted the English version of my name. "I am very happy to be with you, as if we are sisters now." I smiled at her words. "I am sorry I have misunderstood..." I started, but she cut me off. "There is no need to apologize, I have not been so friendly, you are right." She reached out to touch my hand and I gripped her tiny fingers. "If you were mine, perhaps this would be different between us, but..." She made a small fluttering gesture with her other hand. "I am only your friend, not your Mistress." "I'm glad you're my friend, Fumiko-san." I smiled and shifted in my seat, the plug in my ass grew extremely uncomfortable when I sat down longer than 10 minutes or so. "I am in love with your sister." "I love her as well." Fumiko smiled sadly. "So perhaps I am also jealous? I do not know." "You call her Mistress also." I was trying to understand. "Yes. That is so, but it is because I wish it, not because she demands it. She does not sleep with me, Lisa." Fumiko looked pointedly at me. "As much as I would have her, she will not have me. It is not proper for us, she has told me, and I believe sometimes it is cruel that I should feel this when she does not." We had our dinner and returned to the apartment. I removed my clothes and then my butt plug, washing it before using the toilet. I was sore and my piercings itched so Fumiko washed me gently. While we were in the bath I looked at Fumiko shyly. "Do you...need to pee, Fumiko?" I asked her. "Why do you ask?" She gave me a little grin. "Because I..." I blushed despite the cold water. "I would like to learn. I displeased Mistress Atsumi this morning, I think." "No." Fumiko laughed and shook her head. "She was very pleased by you." I looked at my friend. "Are you sure? But she said..." "Of course she cannot tell you, but you will learn these things, you will know how to tell." "But I would still like to...learn." I said softly. "I think you did not like it." Fumiko washed my breasts. They were still sore and the bruises were faded yellowish-purple splotches. Her strong fingers very nearly brought tears to my eyes as they worked the tender flesh. "And I must also punish you yet, have you forgotten that?" I had forgotten that Mistress Atsumi wanted me punished. I sat looking at Fumiko, not saying anything while she finished bathing me. She pulled at the D-ring gently, watching as the little bar threaded through the swell of my mons pulled my flesh taut. I gasped a little at the bit of pain and a tiny shudder went through me. Fumiko smiled at me, her angelic face seeming so innocent and pure right then. "You are a true slave, Lisa, you will never be satisfied by what we can do to you, I think." I was just sitting there, looking at her. "Yes." I said softly, knowing she was right. I would protest and resist and then only later would I realize how much I'd enjoyed and needed it. "But we will try." Fumiko giggled and stood up. I took her hand and she pulled me to my feet as well. "Bend over now." I did as the small girl asked and grimaced slightly as Fumiko pushed the plug back into my ass. My muscles were being trained, I realized, there was very little discomfort now. It went in easily and the overall feeling was almost comfortable. Soon, I thought, it would seem more uncomfortable to be without that hard intrusive presence. I straightened back up and Fumiko dried me off and led me into my bedroom where she applied more of the cream to my piercings. My clit burned under her touch and she stroked it just for a second, teasing me. "Lie down now and we will punish your breasts." Fumiko said softly and I groaned at the thought. They were still sore and discolored from the previous day, so much so that I'd almost been certain that Fumiko would have to find some other way to punish me. She caught my look and just pushed me back. "Do not worry, Lisa-san, this is very easy, you will see." "But they are still sore, Fumiko. Please..." I couldn't finish because the girl brought her hand to my cheek with a hard stinging slap. I felt my eyes watering and my whole body seemed to flush, not from the pain, which was very slight, but from the shock and humiliation. "I am sorry, Fumiko-san." I whispered immediately and I sank back onto my bed, keeping my eyes tightly shut. "Your Mistress loves you, Lisa." Fumiko spoke quietly, her fingertips tracing my features. "And so I will love you also. That is why I will do this, do you understand?" I nodded and my lips moved, but no sound escaped. "And that is why you will accept it." She left the bed and moved to the bureau, returning a moment later and sitting next to me as I lay there. "Open your eyes now." "Yes...Mistress." I blinked at her. Fumiko was sitting very erect, still naked and meltingly beautiful. She held what looked like a leather belt, although it was shaped more like a pretzel than anything else. "Do not call me that." Fumiko slipped the strange belt around my breasts. It was basically two small belts connected together, I saw, so that they formed a shape like the number eight. "We only have one Mistress, I am doing this because she wishes it." "You don't want to do this to me?" I asked, without trying to be clever, only wanting to understand. She cinched the belts tightly around each of my breasts, one at a time. Once again it brought more discomfort than real pain as the fatty tissue was squeezed to such a small diameter that I feared Fumiko was going to sever them. "Of course I do." She giggled. "You have such wonderful perfect breasts, Lisa-san, how could I ever tire of this?" She sat back, watching as my tits seemed to swell, plumping as if they were being filled with water until the thin strips of leather that bound them were almost invisible. My body began protesting almost immediately, my chest filling with an ache at first, a low burning sensation. My nipples itched and hardened to twin dark points, demanding attention. I had to fight to resist the urge to touch myself. I arched my back and grabbed small fistfuls of bed sheet, digging my fingers into the soft cool fabric. "Do not move." Fumiko told me sternly. "I will get the candle." She gave me a little giggle as she left the room. While I struggled with the idea of Fumiko using hot wax on my breasts, I watched as my once pale skin turned pink and then slowly red. They felt as if they were on fire and the feeling spread rapidly throughout my entire body, centering it seemed on my sex. I pressed my thighs together, all too aware of the moisture weeping from my slit. I wanted to touch myself so badly, to feel my breasts, to rub the sweet spot hiding just behind my clit. I was trembling from the effort of keeping my hands still. Time was a lost concept to that awful growing torture, how long had Fumiko been gone? Where was she, I wondered. I needed her, I needed her attention, her permission, her presence and approval. I was longing for more, to be whipped, or waxed, or clamped, or whatever else she wanted to do to me. The pain was steadily growing worse, not from my bonds, but from being denied. The belts were just enough to make me want more, didn't she know that? I was supposed to be punished, where was Fumiko? I had memories of being whipped and I tried to relive it, to imagine Fumiko stroking my flesh with her cane. The pain flashing through me, bringing my blood to boiling, giving my desire voice in screams of pain. I needed it now, more than I'd ever needed anything. "Stop!" Mistress Atsumi's voice startled me, making me quiver with fear and anticipation. My hands were on my belly, sliding up and down, halfway between my aching swollen breasts and the fire burning between my thighs. I didn't remember letting go of the sheets. I stared at Mistress, feeling both shame and longing. She was dressed nicely, presumably just arriving back from the club. Fumiko stood naked behind her, not smiling and whispering something to Atsumi who seemed to wave the girl away. "Mistress..." I couldn't help but smile, a little shyly perhaps, but Atsumi frowned. "Do not speak." She said and her words fell like a slap to my face. She removed the belt from my breasts and the sudden wave of pain made me cry out as blood rushed back into my tortured flesh. Fumiko returned with some handcuffs, real ones it seemed, and Atsumi turned me over onto my stomach so that my breasts were crushed painfully beneath my weight. In this way Mistress bound me to the bed frame, at my ankles and legs, so I was spread eagle and completely exposed. By the time she'd finished, Fumiko returned with a small black satchel. Atsumi opened it and pulled out some vials, a small can and some matches. She used a spoon, and some cotton, cooking something on the nightstand and filling a syringe with it. "What is that, Mistress?" I asked her. I felt uncomfortable, sensing it was something that I shouldn't ever know about. "It is heroin, Lisa-san. Now lie still and you will like this." She brought the needle to my arm and I protested then, telling her I didn't want it, that I couldn't. "Please," I begged her, "don't..." But it was too late. She pushed the plunger and a moment later I felt the most wonderful sensations. Floating and dreaming, without a care in the world. She made love to me then, removing the butt plug from my ass and using a huge dildo that looked as though it should have split me in two, but it didn't. It only felt good and I was flying with her on top of me, kissing me, fucking me over and over again until I couldn't stop cumming. It was the most perfect and beautiful experience of my life and all I could think was that I never ever wanted her to stop. At some point I guess I passed out and I woke up, still chained to the bed, feeling sore and thirsty and I needed to pee badly. The lights were still on and I lifted my head weakly, looking over my shoulder to see the large dildo protruding from my ass. It was massive, stretching me unnaturally and I became aware of a particular pain deep between my legs, like a cramp, but not ending, not coming and going, just constant. "You're awake now, good." It was Fumiko and she was smiling at me. "How do you feel." "Sore. I need to use the bathroom." Fumiko nodded and moved to the bed, reaching between my legs and pulled the dildo from my ass. It had been inside me at least 12 inches I thought, and it was bulging in places, very wide and uneven, not a smooth phallus at all. She set it aside and unlocked my cuffs, letting me roll over slowly and finally sit up. Then she handcuffed my hands behind my back. She did the same with my ankles, locking the two lengths of chain together, so I would have to shuffle my feet as I walked. "Why do you have to keep me like this?" I asked the smaller woman. I felt like I was sleep walking, there was no resistance inside me and the chains seemed ridiculous. She just shrugged. "It is part of your training." "Oh." I didn't know what else to say. "Mistress...she gave me something last night, heroin I think." It was difficult to walk and the cramp between my legs was worse when I moved. "Yes, I know." Fumiko nodded. She carried the dildo and my butt plug into the bathroom as I followed slowly. She helped me sit down on the toilet and I felt a little embarrassment having Fumiko there, but she attended to washing the dildo and the butt plug in the sink while I urinated. "You must shit as well." Fumiko looked at me and I wasn't sure I could. "The heroin will make you constipated, but you are loose now." I tried and pushed, but it hurt and I shook my head. "Later, please?" Fumiko just shrugged and wiped my pussy with some toilet paper. "Perhaps Mistress will give you an enema." She reached down and fingered my asshole gently. "We will bathe later." She told me. Fumiko brought me back to the bedroom and chained me once again to the bed, this time on my back. She pushed the butt plug in my ass, asking me to raise my hips for her. I felt a welcome pressure as the widest part stretched my anus once again and then it slipped inside and Fumiko pushed it snugly back into place. I watched wordlessly as Fumiko retrieved the same kit that Atsumi had used the night before and I asked her why she was injecting me with heroin. "Didn't you like it?" She asked me, smiling a little. "Yes, I did like it. But isn't it...dangerous?" "No, not like this. Mistress only wants to make you hungry for it." "She doesn't have to though." I whispered. "Why is that?" Fumiko asked, pushing the needle into my arm. "Because...I'm hungry for her..." I felt the rush of the drugs coming into my head and I felt like I was swimming in a fire, but it didn't burn me, it just felt good. "You are a strange woman, Lisa-san." Fumiko was undressing and I just stared at her. I thought she was the most beautiful thing in the world just then, glowing and flowing, like she was made of water, all wet and warm. "Are you wet?" I asked her, but she didn't understand me. "Drink this now." She straddled my face, kneeling over my mouth and pressing her tiny pussy to my lips. She was wet, all water and warm and salty as she poured herself into my mouth, slowly at first and I drank eagerly. Then she was bitter too and I felt my stomach churning against her and I didn't want to drink this girl. The drugs were twisting everything I knew, confusing me and I wanted to be clear but it was so hard. I swallowed as much as I could and felt some of her running down my face, wetting my pillow and soaking my hair and neck. Fumiko lifted herself and I breathed deeply. "Did I hurt you?" I asked her, because it seemed I must have drank half of her small body already. "What?" She laughed at me. "No, of course not. Do you want more?" "You're so small, Fumiko." I said and I licked my lips wondering why she tasted like that. "But I have a lot of piss for you. Drink." She put her pussy back to my mouth and I clamped my lips over it, feeling the girl filling my mouth again and again as I swallowed. And then Fumiko changed, slowly, dissolving and growing into her sister, Atsumi as lights and shadows from the window moved fast and slow, the world spinning away without me. "What time is it?" My voice was soft and tired and I felt as though I could barely keep my eyes open. "It is time for another injection." Atsumi smiled and I realized she was holding the syringe. "Oh..." I nodded, smiling. "I remember." "Shhh...quiet now...Fumiko!" She called and a moment later the girl appeared, naked and sweating, her body flushed. "Hold her arm still." "Yes Mistress." The girl grabbed my left arm tightly and I watched dispassionately as Atsumi pricked my arm, filling me with another dose of the wonderful drug. "You have such a perfect body, Lisa-san. Good veins." She withdrew the needle and kissed me. "Whip her." Mistress told Fumiko and then she left. Being whipped while on heroin is like...dying and going to heaven, only to find that God had left the Marquis de Sade in charge. Once again it was my breasts which had to endure the punishment. Fumiko used a very small switch made of wood. It was thin and flexible and it was intensely painful. She whipped my tits for a long time while my mind was trying to cope with the dreamlike surreal quality the drugs lent to the scene. At times it felt as though each small stroke was a living thing, like a viper biting into my flesh, insinuating itself beneath my skin, coiling and writhing so that the welts seemed to wriggle and crawl before my horrified eyes. At other times I was apart from it, observing casually and feeling nothing. The sharp slapping sound echoed in my ears, reverberating, and I laughed and cried and felt myself going mad beneath Fumiko's smiling gaze. I don't think I ever fell totally asleep, but I wasn't awake either. I was somewhere in between. Mistress Atsumi was there and I looked at her. "I have to go to work." I told her, since that was the first thought that came into my head. The second thought was that I was going to be sick. I felt my stomach cramping and I had a dim memory of a dream, of drinking Fumiko's urine. "You are at work, Lisa-san." The woman looked at me and I saw she was dressed in a wonderful kimono, pink and white and blue, a classic design of Japanese cranes. Her hair was put up and held in place with an ivory comb. She had a powdered face and crimson lips, and her eyes were black and beautiful. I rolled over onto my side, bringing my hands underneath my cheek like a little girl. It took me a long moment to realize I was no longer chained to the bed. "What did you do to me?" I whispered, watching Mistress Atsumi as she just stood there, beautiful and ethereal like a dream. "I gave you a reward." Her voice was soothing. "Because I love you so much. You must bathe and dress. I would like you at the club tonight." "I'm so...sleepy." I yawned and curled up a little tighter. "Mistress..." I breathed and then she was gone. "Lisa...Lisa..." Someone was tugging at my arm and I opened my eyes to see Fumiko. "Come with me now, we need to get ready." I stood and stretched, moving slowly and feeling sore and stiff all over. I examined my breasts and they were a mass of bruises, stained yellow and purple and black. They were grotesque and beautiful I thought, criss-crossed with welts that hadn't healed yet. My nipples were puffy and swollen and colored dark red. I massaged my tits tenderly, admiring how the swelling made them seem even larger, the skin tight and warm. "You're an artist, Fumiko-san" I giggled a little, wondering if it was me, or if I was still a little high on the drugs they'd given me. "And you are a bad little slave." The lovely girl chided me with a grin, pulling me by the arm to follow her into the bathroom. I used the toilet, although it was difficult, and Fumiko rewarded me with a warm soapy enema. I'd never experienced such a thing before, but it wasn't as unpleasant as I'd feared. It actually felt good for a little while and about the time it became uncomfortable I was allowed to expel the dirty fluid. This was repeated twice more until Fumiko was satisfied and then she washed the rest of me, paying careful attentions to my piercings, which were healing well, she said. Fumiko replaced my butt plug and fastened my collar around my neck and allowed me to dress in something reasonable, at least by the standards to which I was becoming used to. A cream colored leather miniskirt and a red silk blouse, sans bra of course, so my nipples protruded obscenely. I put on a red thong, pulling it up to my pubic piercing and letting the metal D-ring hang loose. Some red fishnet stockings and cream colored heels finished it all off. I made up my face and brushed my hair, tying it back in a pony tail, while Fumiko dressed herself. Fumiko emerged wearing looking like a Goth goddess in what had to be an authentic German SS uniform, or part of one anyway. She wore gleaming black jack boots into which her black wool trousers were tucked neatly. The pants were pleated and tailored to hug her hips and ass nicely, ballooning slightly at the knees. She wore no blouse at all, just a black wool jacket, casually buttoned so that her breasts were exposed when she moved. It had some silver embroidered epaulets, for rank I guessed, though I had no idea what it was. There was silver piping around the collar and cuffs, and a patch with an eagle holding a swastika on the left breast. Around her neck she wore a black ribbon with a black and silver iron cross dangling from it. On her head she wore a peaked cap in silver and black with a gleaming skull pinned on the front. She carried a leather riding crop, slapping it against her thigh as she stared at me and her face was painted white, with deep black eyes and crimson lips. On the whole it was both frightening and terribly exciting, I thought. Fumiko attached the leash to my collar and led me outside and I could only imagine what people must have thought of us. Me, tall, blonde and American, and dressed like a prostitute, being led on a leash by a small elfin Japanese girl costumed as evil incarnate. I kept my eyes down for much of the short walk to the subway station, avoiding the stares and trying to ignore the comments and giggles. It was early evening and the streets were crowded, the trains would be even worse, I knew. Standing on the subway, everyone was pushed very close together. I stood facing Fumiko, her face coming just to my breasts and I looked down on her as we moved from stop to stop, with interminable periods of swaying in between. We had 6 stops before arriving at Shinagawa Station and we'd transfer to a real train. Between the 3rd and 4th I suddenly felt someone's hand on my thigh, stroking up the back of my leg towards my barely covered ass. I sucked a little breath of air and my body tensed causing Fumiko to look up sharply into my face. "What is wrong?" She asked softly. The hand was playing along the tops of my stockings now and I closed my eyes for a second, feeling both slight embarrassment and pangs of excitement at being touched like that in public by a stranger. It brought back memories of previous encounters and a part of me missed that, I thought. "Someone is touching me..." I spoke softly as well, but doubtless a few people around us could hear, perhaps even the man whose fingers were moving ever upward toward my sex. Fumiko moved a little, peeking around to see who was doing it. "Do you want him to stop, Lisa-san?" She said a little louder. The fingers abruptly moved away from me and I blinked, shaking my head slowly. "No, I...I enjoy it." I looked into Fumiko's eyes trying to find some understanding, but she seemed confused by my complicity. "It is a secret pleasure." "Is it?" Fumiko's voice sounded doubtful. "Very well. Take off your panties then." She ordered. "What? Fumiko..." I started to protest but the look in her eyes, the realization that she was losing face in front of the strangers with ever word I uttered, broke my will. "Yes...Fumiko-san." If there'd been enough room I would have bowed in apology, as it was I slowly and somewhat clumsily worked my thong down my thighs, letting gravity pull them to my ankles. I bent my knees, crouching straight down to retrieve them, feeling the plug in my ass protesting the unusual movement. I could also feel the eyes of several dozen people, mostly men, but more than a few women as well, watching me. I stood up, red faced and breathless, staring into Fumiko's eyes. She took my red thong from my fingers silently, handing them to someone behind me, presumably the man who had been touching me. "You wanted to feel these?" Fumiko's voice was loud enough to attract even more attention than we had already, if that was possible. I closed my eyes and felt my body burning up. "Take them home and give them to your daughter, pervert." I don't know if Fumiko threw them in his face, or if he took them from her hand, or if she just dropped them on the floor. I'd had my eyes tightly shut and when I opened them again, all I knew was that I no longer had any underwear at all. I felt horribly exposed like that, as if everyone could see under my short skirt. I imagined people seeing the bit of rubber from the base of the butt plug protruding from my ass as I walked. Or the rings in my vagina, or the pearl on my clit. I felt cold and hot all over and Fumiko just smiled at me, enjoying her game immensely. "It is better now for you, Lisa-san?" She almost giggled. "Now if a man wants you, we will have to find something else to remove." I swallowed nervously at the thought that Fumiko would make me remove the plug from my ass in public. That would be too much, even for the bizarre permissive world of Tokyo mass transit. Luckily the rest of our little trip was uneventful, despite my much too overactive imagination. Exiting Yokohama Station we took a taxi to the club and inside it was much as I remembered it. There were a few dozen customers, even though it was early, even by Japanese standards. Fumio led me back, past the bar and down the short hallway to the dressing room. There were 3 Japanese girls inside, one of them I remembered as the girl in the bikini who'd assisted Mistress Atsumi the night I'd been there. They were all young, somewhere between 18 and 22 I'd guess and strikingly beautiful. Fumiko largely ignored their respectful greetings and introduced me quickly. "This is Miki and her sister, Niya." Fumiko gestured to the two I hadn't seen before. "And this is Ayu. Miki and Niya will perform tonight, always together, so you will see them." Fumiko smiled and the girls nodded happily. "Ayu is Mistress Atsumi's assistant, you have seen her before. We have 6 other girls, hostess girls who will sit with the customers and sometimes perform on the stage. You will meet them later." "Are you a Russian?" Niya asked me and I shook my head, smiling and telling them I'm American. "See? I told you!" Her sister Miki laughed. "You are so stupid." "I am not. She looks Russian!" Niya was taking off what was unmistakably a school uniform, like something out of a Sailor Moon comic. Her sister was already naked, sitting on a metal folding chair and working her small body into a white fishnet body stocking. "How old are you?" I asked Niya. "That depends on who is asking!" Miki giggled. "That's enough talking, they are 17 now." Fumiko had been digging through some plastic containers, finding what I would need for the evening. "You will be a hostess tonight, Lisa-san." "We come here after school." Niya said. She was standing in her panties now The girl appeared and Atsumi told her to dress me for working, but to make sure my breasts were bound again. I started to protest again, not understanding this at all, when Atsumi waved her hand. "And a gag also, she is beautiful but I am tired to hear her voice now." Fumiko pulled me along with her to the offices, where there was a dressing room and several wardrobe closets, the temporary sort made of cardboard and plastic that the Japanese favor. I tried asking Fumiko what was going on, but she jus told me she didn't know. The young woman used a strange sort of gag that I'd never seen before. It was hard rubber, red and shaped like a very thin `O' that fit into my mouth, stretching it open as much as it possibly could. There were two thin straps that went to the back of my head. It felt strange and I realized there was a depressor on the underside that effectively trapped my tongue. "Do not remove that." Fumiko warned me with a smile, but her eyes were serious. "Or Mistress Atsumi will be unhappy with you." Next she fitted my breasts with two thin leather belts, one around each of my breasts, pulling them so tight I thought she'd cinch my boobs right off my chest. I gasped as a fresh wave of pain awoke the welts that I still sported. Fumiko pushed at my back, bending me over so she could remove the plug in my ass. She helped me into a black leather thong and then a pair of black fishnet stockings that came mid-thigh. A pair of stiletto heels, black leather, completed my `uniform' and Fumiko stepped back to admire me. "You will sit with customers. You are not a waitress, so you will sit and do what they will tell you to." She watched as I nodded. "I will be close to you, so you will not be hurt tonight." I followed her down the hall and we exited through the bar where I was immediately seized upon by a Japanese man sitting by himself. He crooked his finger at me and I looked at Fumiko who nodded. I walked over, having absolutely no idea what I was doing or what the man was expecting. I wondered how I would get out of that place, without my clothes or purse, and why my boss had not waited for me. And what had Atsumi meant? It was all very confusing. "I see you do not talk, eh?" The Japanese man was perhaps 40 years old, with the superior attitude that I'd come to deplore in many of the Japanese men I'd come into contact with. "Well that is good, because I do not want your mouth to talk, bitch." The word sounded terrible in Japanese and it took me a moment to recognize it. He told me to remove his penis and watched as I gave him a blowjob with people waking past, or sitting nearby at there tables, seeing me and commenting on the American woman. I was so embarrassed by this I almost couldn't finish, but I had little choice anyway. My mouth was locked open and eventually the man just grabbed a fistful of my still damp hair and moved my mouth the way he wanted it until he came. Swallowing was extremely difficult and I made quite a mess, which did not make the Japanese man happy at all. I shrank away from him as he voiced his opinion of American whores who couldn't even swallow a man's cum properly. He slapped at my tits painfully and I started crying, although more from outrage and embarrassment than any real injury to my body. Fumiko came over and I looked at her hopefully, certain that she would protect me from this man. It wasn't my fault the guy had cum all over himself. If I hadn't had to wear this silly gag I could have given him a real blowjob, didn't he know that? Fumiko, I was sure, would straighten everything out. "This stupid cow has ruined my trousers." The man pointed his finger at me. "It's an insult and she did it deliberately." "Is this true, Lisa-san?" Fumiko stared at me and I couldn't believe my ears. I shook my head vigorously. "She's a lying bitch." The man pronounced and Fumiko nodded. "She must be punished, sir. Will you do it?" She was bowing to the man now and I felt my whole body flush with anger. "Yes." He said and I waited silently, wondering what my punishment would be. Fumiko returned with a strange looking whip. It had a handle and 7 long flat strips of leather attached to it. I guess it was for flogging, similar to a cat o'nine tails, but slightly less abusive. I would soon learn though that it was capable of producing quite a lot of pain when used properly. I was laid over the small round table on my back and I heard Fumiko talking to the man. "Sir, this slave is still in training, only her breasts may be punished." The man grunted and lost no time flogging my breasts. He must have used one before, because he had a way of snapping his wrist at precisely the right instant to crack the ends over whichever part of my skin he preferred. Invariably that seemed to be my nipples and I was soon writhing in pain upon that small stage. A number of onlookers had moved closer, commenting on the man's skill. I sobbed loudly, but with the gag in my mouth it sounded like a curious mewling sound and it got no response but laughter. He flogged me for perhaps 10 minutes, a good fifty blows I would imagine, maybe more. My tits were hot and dark red now, and every touch on my flesh left a lingering stain of white. They burned and I was swept up once again by an indescribable pleasant sensation beneath it all, struggling to surface. My hips were moving, but not jerking as the rest of me was, they were grinding as if searching for something and I had my hands there eventually, pressing against my sex as the last few blows fell. The man noticed, as did more than a few others. "The bitch likes it." He laughed. "This was no punishment!" He dropped the whip on my heaving belly and moved away from me. "Come sit with me now." I barely had time to think before another man was pulling me to my feet. Fumiko did nothing to interfere, she merely picked up the whip, and so I followed the man as though I were drugged. He was younger, maybe late twenties and he brought me to a table where two friends of his sat, also young men. "I am Keisu, this is Aisen, and Tomasu. You are so beautiful why do you let them do this to you?" His words made very little sense. I was still trying to catch my breath and it felt as if my whole body were throbbing with the fire centered in my breasts. I looked at him, but of course I couldn't speak. It didn't really matter anyway, because despite the man's pleasant manner and polite introductions, it soon became obvious he and his friends were only really interested in fucking an American. I had no idea what I was expected to do, or even if there were limitations to what I could do, so I did not resist. I pulled my thong to the side and straddled them one at a time, facing them so they could play with my abused tits while I rode their cocks with my stretched and ready ass. It was what I'd been aching for and the men were very pleased that they were making me cum so quickly and often. The truth is I would have gotten off riding a doorknob; these guys were just in the right place at the right time. But if I've learned anything, Japanese men have egos made out of glass. It was a very long night, the club did not close until 2am and by that time I had sucked or fucked about a dozen men. I'd been punished 3 times, always by a flogging across my tits. I had the belts removed and put back on several times and that was even worse than the floggings. When the bonds of my breast were removed and blood flowed back into the bruised and oxygen starved cells, it was like the floodgates to hell had been opened. It was the most painful thing in the world for 5 or 10 minutes and then it would subside to a dull throbbing ache that never went entirely away. Fumiko removed the gag from my mouth and it hurt just to close it. I had to practice talking because my jaw was so stiff. Went to the bath with the girl and she bathed me again, more quickly this time, working her fingers in my pussy and ass. It felt really good but she wasn't trying to get me off. She applied cream to my breasts again, pushed the plug back into my ass, and then found me a yellow leather dress that was actually too small, but it was about the only thing presentable. I managed to get into it, although the bustier would not close over my now very swollen boobs. It was a lace enclosure and as it was it just barely covered my large distended nipples, but that was enough. Fumiko laced it tight and threw the leather thong back at me. It smelled of my pussy and semen, but I put it on anyway. There wasn't a lot of underwear around to choose from. "Is she ready?" Mistress Atsumi walked in just as I was straightening up and Fumiko brushed my hair quickly. "Yes Mistress." Fumiko replied and she turned to me. "You will go with your Mistress now." I didn't know what was going on, but I hurried after Mistress Atsumi, falling into step behind her. She was dressed in a leather trench coat, buttoned from her neck to her knees. The only other thing to be seen was a pair of gleaming leather boots. She was a fetishist wet dream, I thought. We both were. We found ourselves in a taxi and I sat back, curling up against Atsumi. I felt so tired. My body entire body ached. There was something else too; a small yearning to be back in my bed, dreaming once more with the drugs I'd been given. It was only a tiny thing though, the stirrings of an addiction I feared, and I tried to dismiss it. For her part, Mistress Atsumi largely ignored me, sitting straight and proper, staring straight ahead. Only her fingers betrayed any interest in me whatsoever, playing slowly at the hem of my short skirt and occasionally brushing my bare skin. The ride was a long one, even with the light traffic and I fell asleep, only to be awakened by Atsumi's gentle voice in my ear. "Wake up, pet." I looked around, stretching as much as the back seat allowed and wondering where I was... end rache696@yahoo.com -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com>| | FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> | |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}| +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+