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Message-ID: <48980asstr$1093421416@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: rache696@yahoo.com (Rache)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: Wed, 25 Aug 2004 04:56:07 +0000 (UTC)
Subject: {ASSM} Turning Japanese Pt.2 (M+/F, F+/F, Dog+/F, Humil, Reluct, BDSM, Body Mod, TG, WS, Best, Drug)
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Date: Wed, 25 Aug 2004 04:10:16 -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 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

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