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From: Don Winslow <dwin2001@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} RP.  {Winslow} "Mr. Moto Returns" (D/s, M/F, humil)
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Date: Sun, 31 Jul 2005 11:10:02 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Mr Moto.doc" begin>

Nr. Moto Returns (D/s, M/F, humil)
By Don Winslow


*****************************************************************
******
AUTHOR'S NOTE:  For this story, the author wishes to acknowledge
the considerable debt he owes to two esteemed "mc" authors.  The
author is grateful to Downing Street (see Business Reversal),
whose imaginative work always yields delightful surprises, and to
Toxis (see Race Queen), whose unflinching vision raises such
intriguing possibilities.  

*****************************************************************
******
PRELUDE from "BUSINESS REVERSAL" By Downing Street

THE STORY SO FAR...Caitlin had been a rising star in the business
world, founder and CEO of one of the hottest software companies
in the valley. Known for her cool demeanor, her aggressive style,
her ruthless determination to succeed, Caitlin was feared by
competitors and employees alike. Then one day one of her software
designers who was slated to be fired, Oscar Brightman, walked
into her office unannounced, a laptop under one arm. To her
surprise, the mild-mannered programmer asked her to watch a demo
he had designed. She watched, without thought or comment, as the
images danced across the screen.  Then she dismissed her
underling without a word, vaguely puzzled by the strangely
euphoric feeling that tingled through her the rest of the day.

Caitlin's efficiency began suffering about then. She wasn't
getting nearly as much done as usual. Her mind felt soft and
unfocused. She had difficulty making decisions.  And increasingly
she found her thoughts drifting to sex -- sexy daydreams,
unexpected images of rampant carnality that kept flashing through
her head, like trailers for a feature-length, X-rated movie in
which she was the hot and sweaty star.  Caitlin would gasp, close
her eyes, trying to shake the lewd images from her brain, but
they became more vivid every day.  She became desperately horny.
The office staff noticed the funny changes in the boss' behavior.
 She was wearing sexier clothes to work, sporting shocking
miniskirts and wickedly high heels.   Even more strangely, she
was coming under the influence of Oscar Brightman who went so far
as to move into her office.  She found herself at her new desk in
tight, revealing skirts, low cut tops and push-up bras.  Her hair
was now bleached blond, and she was relegated to the role of a
lowly secretary -- one whose job it was to wait on Brightman hand
and foot... and to look pretty. 

Confused and uncertain, Caitlin moved as in daze, simply doing
what she was told.  She was even forced to adopt a humiliating
new name -- Kitty-Kitty.  And, most astonishing of all, she
seemed unable to object to her continued degradation.  As
Brightman's obedient  secretary she spent her days typing, 
answering the phones, fetching coffee, and providing eye candy
for the office.  She thought she had hit rock bottom --when the
call came in from Mr. Moto.

Mr. Moto was an astute investor looking to put money into
high-tech companies.  When she was CEO, she had gone to him for
venture capital.  Mr. Moto had politely smiled...and turned her
down flat.  But all that changed when Brightman took over.
Somehow he convinced Mr. Moto to reconsider and the financier had
not only agreed to underwrite the firm, but had basically written
Brightman a blank cheque.  Just to rub her nose in it, Brightman
had ordered his new secretary to bring them tea. She could still
remember her mortification as she wiggled about the office in a
tight, backless sundress, carefully serving tea in fine china
cups while Mr. Moto's eyes gobbled up every curve and valley of
her superb figure.

Brightman hardly looked up from his call to Mr Moto.  When he
did, it was only to blatantly check out Caitlin's exposed thighs.
He waved her over to a chair at one side of the office set up
before a computer screen.  Long after Mr. Moto's telephone call,
the former company CEO sat in front of the computer as in a daze.
She was wearing a tight pink sweater with a picture of a kitten
playing with a ball of yarn embroidered on the front.  Kitten
motifs figured prominently in her new wardrobe. Even her
underthings had little kittens on them. 

*****************************************************************
*********************

Part 1

Kitty-Kat (nee Caitlin O'Reilly) was clearly nervous.   As the
elevator doors slid closed behind her with a hushed click, she
took two steps forward, only to be arrested by the sight of the
leggy blonde in the little black dress reflected in the
full-length mirrored wall that rose from behind a clump of potted
ferns.

The brown-eyed girl who looked back at her from under a row of
soft even bangs, met her gaze with a questioning look.   Her
wide, glossy lips were drawn in a tense line.  The lurid red of
her gleaming lipstick, the heavy makeup, the turquoise eye
shadow, and thick eyeliner gave her the look of a high-class
whore, an impression she would certainly have given to all those
in the crowded lobby, even if she had not been wearing the sexy
slip-dress. 

Kitty-Kat stood there nervously, one hand reaching down to give a
final tug to the hem. The skimpy dress had, of course, been
Brightman's idea.  A backless number that hung from thin straps
looping her bare shoulders, the thigh-length mini barely managed
to cover the shaded tops of her shiny dark stockings -- and then
only if she stood perfectly still.  She studied the contoured
lengths of her shapely black-stockinged legs in the mirror; the
4-inch pumps, her "fuck-me" shoes -- that was what Brightman
called them.

The blond girl turned away, took a deep breath, and began her
solitary journey down the thickly carpeted hallway to Room 802,
walking as she had been taught to -- taking small, mincing steps
in the narrow dress and heels.  Chin up and leaning forward just
slightly so that her rump arched back, she let her hips sway
daintily with each step she took.  Thoughts of Suki flashed
through her head: Sanjuko-San, her mistress for the last three
months.  How she had admired that marvelous serenity and perfect
poise of the lithe Japanese woman.  Even though she was quite a
bit older than her blond pupil, Suki moved with supple grace, her
lean, hard body inevitably sheathed in that shiny deep blue of
the lycra leotard that she donned for the lessons in Japanese
ways that she sometimes taught to those selected Western women
who were sent to her.  

It was Brightman who had arranged for lessons for Kitty-Kat at
Suki Sanjuko's chic dance studio.  The private lessons were
expensive, but money didn't matter, not with so much at stake.

At the outset, Kitty-Kat had been instructed to follow all
directions to the letter, promptly, and without question.  She
was warned to learn her lessons well; she would be punished if
she was found to be a lazy or stupid girl.  (Now the girl had
been called many things, both before, and since becoming
Kitty-Kat, but never "stupid".  In addition to her law degree
from Columbia, she had a BA in women's studies from Cornell, or
at least Caitlin O'Reilly had,...although that was long ago, in a
different life really).  Nevertheless, punished she was, for the
least infraction.  She had to endure the humiliation of being
spanked like a little schoolgirl, and learn to thank her mistress
afterwards with a sweet smile on her face.     

 Sanjuko-San was a strict disciplinarian, the training she
subjected the new girl to was rigorous: etiquette, deportment,
poise and manners, traditional courtesy and respect, and of
course, proper acceptance of her new role as "pillow girl," --
mistress to one of Japan's most powerful businessmen.  

Every detail was gone over.  Nor were the blond girl's dress,
personal appearance, and grooming exempt from critical scrutiny.
Only when she was satisfied with Kitty-Kat's progress in the
basics would her demanding mistress introduce the girl to those
skills which would make her an expert in pleasuring a man (or
woman for that matter, should her master desire it).  Kitty-Kat
proved surprisingly adept in the arts of making love, and
Sanjuko-San declared herself pleased.  The younger woman flushed
with pride.

And now it had all come down to this.  Sanjuko-San had reported
to Brightman that the girl was ready.  She could now be presented
to the honorable Mr Moto for his approval.  Kitty-Kat was
nervous, but ready for the test. She stood before the door to
room 802, knocked softly, twice.

The door opened to reveal a middle-aged Japanese man in an
expensive silk Kimono.  He was slightly-built with a high, smooth
brow and receding hair that was neatly combed straight back.  His
face was blankly stolid, with strong lines that spoke to
underlying power.  His lips were set; dark eyes impassive.  But
those eyes began to light up as he appraised the tall American
beauty who stood waiting to be of service.

Seiji Moto looked her up and down, stepped back from the door,
and with an almost imperceptible nod of his head bid his guest to
enter.  Kitty-Kat took two mincing steps forward and bowed from
the waist, as she had been taught, a deep, formal and submissive
bow, with eyes to the floor.  Remembering Suki's instructions,
she looked down at the man's shoes, counted to two, and then
slowly raised her head, careful to look up from under her long,
fluttery lashes and smile politely as she humbly greeted her new
master using the Japanese words she had so carefully memorized. 


"Thank you Master, for allowing me to come into your home.  My
name is Kitty-Kat and as you can see, I am but a foolish and
stupid girl, one who is not worthy of the notice of such an
esteemed gentleman as yourself.  It would be a great honor for me
to be allowed to serve you in any way you might chose."

Mr Moto seemed pleased with her limited Japanese and responded,
curtly but politely, gesturing her into his room, and closing the
door behind her.


Part 2

Seiji Moto looked up at the blond girl who stood towering over
him in her heels, and the trace of a scowl flitted over his lips.
 Much as he favored tall statuesque women, it still annoyed him
when they had to look down upon him, even when they were
respectful, as this one seemed to be. Of course, he'd soon have
the girl on her knees, but at the outset, he decided, the shoes
could go.

Now Mr Moto, was a connoisseur of feminine beauty, one who deeply
appreciated the way tall heels shaped and elongated the sinuous
curves of a pair of devastating legs.  Nevertheless, he had his
new mistress remove her pumps, and set them aside, knowing full
well that before they were through, she would be wearing them
again, but this time on her bare feet as he would have her prance
about the room for him wearing nothing but her shoes.

The Japanese businessman turned his back on his new pillow girl
as she slipped off her pumps, and in her stockinged feet followed
obediently followed two steps behind him as he crossed the room
to a large wingbacked chair that dominated the spacious,
well-appointed suite. 

Mr  Moto sat down with feet planted flatly on the floor, pointed
to a spot just in front of his chair, then watched the stockinged
feet that took the two additional steps to bring the girl to the
place on the thickly-carpeted floor he had indicated.  Kitty-Kat
took her assigned place, automatically assuming for her new
master, the presentation position that she had been taught:
standing erect, with head submissively lowered, eyes respectfully
locked on the floor.  The arms she held at her sides were turned
so that her open palms faced forward. She stood motionless while
tingles of excitement radiated through her body

 Mr Moto lit a cigarette and settled back to leisurely study the
crown of that blond head, the smooth helmet of straight
silver-gold hair that fell forward to partially shield the girl's
face.  He took note of the even bangs and the long page-boy cut.
Many Japanese women wore their hair in that simple style; Mr 
Moto approved.   His eyes now took in the creamy smoothness of
her rounded shoulders and the soft curves of her upper chest, all
left deliciously  bare by the revealing gown; the bulging promise
of those rich, full breasts; the perfect taper of her figure in
the black dress that smoothened down to a narrow waist and firmly
jutting hips.  And just below the brief skirt, his eyes beheld a
truly gorgeous pair of legs sheathed in shiny black nylon.   The
man nodded to himself, deciding that he was well satisfied with
Brightman's gift, and although his face remained expressionless,
his inner delight was evidenced by the growing erection that
tented the crotch of the expensive trousers he wore under his
Kimono.

He looked up at the waiting girl, and gruffly ordered her, in
English, to get undressed.  Still keeping her eyes rigidly
downcast, Kitty-Kat moved instantly to obey.  She reached behind
her to lower the zipper on the dress, then went on to delicately
peel down each wispy shoulderstrap.  The loosened dress slithered
down her lush body to collapse in heap.  She stepped out of the
inky puddle; nudged it aside with one toe.  The descending dress
left the voluptuous blonde in nothing but a pair of  smoky
pantyhose.  Her ample breasts now hung free, completely exposed
to the man's delighted eyes.  Kitty-Kat had been told to wear
nothing underneath the sexy dress -- Brightman's orders.  And she
had done so.  She always followed Brightman's orders, though she
was never quite sure...just why she did such things.

The man's delighted eyes traveled from her furry vulva, dimly
visible under the tautly stretched nylon that molded her
underarch, up to those newly revealed breasts, to linger there,
enjoying the way the generous swells, once released wobbled
slightly as they fell into place, then hung pendulously: rich,
fully-curved, naked tits, with thick, wide nipples that angled
down and pointed outward from the center.  He motioned the blond
woman forward, had her place her hands on the arms of his chair
and lean down over him, letting her heavy breasts sway forward to
dangle practically in his face.  Mr Moto brought both hands up,
curved his fingers to fit the tempting mounds; loosely cupped and
hefted the substantial, dangling tit-bags.  

He watched her face as he felt her up, finding pleasure in her
arousal as he fingered the soft, silken skin, pumping two
handfuls of tittie-flesh to test the softness, the deep inner
resiliency of her pliant breasts  -- those delightful breasts
that he toyed with and fondled to his heart's content.  He used
his extended thumbs to worry her low-slung nipples, coaxing the
sensitive tips into greater prominence.  He cupped her, felt the
hardened nipples pressing into his palms, as he moved her tits in
slow, sensual circles.  

Kitty-Kat gurgled with pleasure.  Under this unrelenting
manipulation, she tightened her grip on the chair, held her arms
rigid.  At the outset she tried to keep still, but that proved
impossible as the strong masculine hands made love to her needy
bosom.  She twisted in his hands, wiggling her shoulders, arching
back like a big cat, tossing back her long blond hair.  A
tight-lipped grunt escaped her set lips, and then a low wavering,
open-mouthed moan, as the woman squirmed in the flush of rising
heat, her eyes closed shut, a dreamy expression on her face,
savoring the pleasures of a masterful lover's hands.

Kitty-Kat was breathing heavily now, practically panting through
her mouth open like a filly after a thundering heat.  Still those
slow, masterful hands never stopped their warm caress. A quiver
of lust shot through her, wiggled out through her twisting
shoulders.  And finally, just when she thought she could stand no
more of such intense pleasure, he gave up her swollen, throbbing
breasts.   With a final tug on her erected nipples, and a light
slap to the dangling tits, he dismissed her, allowing the girl to
leave the pose he had put her in, but only to immediately order
her to her knees.

"Serve me," he ordered, in curt English.

And the pantyhose-clad girl got on her knees and knelt erect at
the feet of her master, her superb breasts rising and falling in
deep undulations, her heavy breathing the telltale sign of her
having been turned on and heated up so mercilessly.  He had her
settle back on her heels, with feet tucked under her in the
Japanese way. With head bowed, Kitty-Kat waited to serve, to do
her master's bidding.  Mr  Moto gazed down on the huddled
shoulders of the girl at his feet, reveling in the lovely vision
of feminine servitude she presented.  He had her remove his shoes
and socks.  Then she was told to take up a bare foot, and cradle
it in her lap.

He looked down at her, and muttered something in Japanese. 
Kitty-Kat understood just enough to know what he wanted.  And the
girl took up the proffered foot, to kiss the top, to lick along
the length, watching the toes curl with exquisite pleasure, then
to take each toe in turn between her soft, pouting lips and
gently give suck.  Moto sighed, and rocked back in his chair,
surrendering himself up to the heavenly feel of the lovely wet
lips of this charmingly submissive woman who knelt before him,
dutifully kissing her master's feet.

After only a few minutes of this excruciating pleasure, Mr 
Moto's erection was painfully stiff, and demanding satisfaction.
But the wordly Mr Moto is a connoisseur of sexual pleasures, and
he well knows that such experiences are best left to unfold
slowly, so as wring out the greatest possible pleasures from each
and every one of them.  And so he orders his pillow girl to stop
her mindless, obsequious devotion, to rise up and bring him
Saki.

His pleased eyes followed the movements of the tall American
blonde, enjoying the sheer beauty of those attractive stockinged
legs, the sinuous lines of smoothened hips and succulent 
tapering thighs, and the splendid generous bottom its rounded
mounds tightly packed in smoky nylon as she to scurried off to do
his bidding.

He never took his eyes off her as she collected the things at an
elaborately carved  sideboard.   Carefully balancing a bottle of
saki and two demicups cups on a small red lacquered tray, she
shuffled back across the carpet, and he enjoyed the sight of her
naked breasts on display, jiggling slightly as she walked,
swaying softly when she bent over, and bowed deeply to her
master, juddering, to settle into place when she got down on her
knees to place the tray to one side, and respectfully offer up a
cup of saki.  

Once the topless serving girl had seen to the needs of her
master, she was permitted to pour herself a drink .  Kitty-Kat
doesn't like the taste of saki, but she knew she could never
refuse such an invitation.  So she swallowed the powerful liquor,
smiled  bravely up at her lord, even though the burning liquid
almost brought tears to her eyes.  He was pleased with her...she
could tell.  He ordered another drink, but this time she was not
invited to drink with him.  Instead, as he eased back to sip his
saki, he ordered his new pillow girl to pose for him.
 
He had her kneel upright , raising her arms and arching back,
with interlocking fingers clasped behind her head, so that she
presented her magnificent breasts, the firm curves jutting out as
if seeking his approval.  He stared at that comely bosom over the
rim of his saki cup.  Kitty-Kat felt a shiver of lust; her
shallow breathing deepens whenever she's made to show herself
like this.  After several minutes of holding the erotic pose,
kneeling motionless before her lord while he finished his drink,
she was ordered to her feet to come closer to his chair.

He looked up at her as she stood before him; made her widen her
stance, and clasp her hands together behind her.  The thought
occurred to him that the girl would look nice in a pair of
handcuffs with her wrists secured behind her, and he mentally
filed that happy thought away for now.   

So far, Mr  Moto had purposely, quite deliberately, denied
himself the feel of those nyloned haunches, but now he would
allow himself that further pleasure.  Reaching out for her, he
curved his hands around those solid hips, curling his long narrow
fingers to press deeply into Kitty-Kat's firm, meaty ass.  He
squeezed; lightly stroked her thighs, enjoying with just the tips
of his fingers the slick cool feel of the silky nylon that seemed
plastered to her lower body.  He nudged her legs even further
apart He savored the warmth and inner firmness of her legs, as
his hands caressed the feminine contours of those long tapering
limbs sheathed in smooth black nylon, while she quivered under
his touch. 

He had the girl turn in place, bend well forward at the hips to
steady herself with hands braced on her thighs, so that she was
forced to stick back her well-made bottom towards the face of the
hungry Mr Moto.   He abruptly jumped up; his hands trembling
slightly as he reached for her.  His greedy hands curved to fit
those lush, twin contours, and he spent a few enjoyable minutes
fondling two generous handfuls of the American girl's plump,
shapely bottom through her tightly stretched pantyhose.  After
amusing himself in this fashion for awhile, he had her
straighten, and turn once more to face him.  

Mr Moto is thin, and unusually tall for a Japanese.  He is almost
the same height as Kitty-Kat in her stockinged feet.  She finds
herself standing only inches from her master, flushed and panting
with arousal.  She immediately lowers her eyes.

 "Look at me," he muttered.

And when he had her looking right into his eyes, he reached down
and took a handful of her plump womanhood through the damp crotch
of the pantyhose.  Gripping her by the sex, he tightened his
curving fingers up into the softness of her pussylips, as he
began palming her vulva, heating the girl up, bringing her to an
ever higher state of excitement while she squirmed helplessly,
and he stared into her widening eyes.

Kitty-Kat was breathing heavily now, her knees gave out and she
collapsed against her masterful lover as  he fondled her
mercilessly.  She wriggled lustily, ground her damp mons against
his manipulating hand.  He could feel the inner heat, the wetness
that was saturating the crotch of the pantyhose.
 
"Down!" he hissed, tightening his grip on her, till she sucked in
air, threw back her head, and whimpered.

Kitty-Kat fell to her knees, with head bowed and shoulders
heaving.  It was time, Mr Moto reckoned, for his terrible itch to
be relieved by the lush lips of his American beauty.



Part 3

The corporate jet with the ITTO logo was winging its way across
the Pacific, straight as a sleek white arrow, flying high and
swift.  In the cocoon of its luxurious cabin, Seiji Moto sat
engrossed in reviewing a business report.  At his feet, his
newest acquisition sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor of the
whisperjet, a laptop computer before her.  She was staring at the
screen, captivated by the flickering images dancing before her
eyes.   He looked down with pride upon his new pillow girl. 
Kitty-Kat was, of course, bare-breasted; it pleased him to keep
her so whenever they were alone together, or even if he had
company, and he wanted to show off his new toy.  Today, she was
wearing a pair of thin cotton panties, little girl's underpants
with playful kittens of pink and blue frolicking about.  Other
than her panties, she wasn't wearing very much: just a pair of
white kneesocks with  black, flat-heeled sandals strapped on her
feet.  As a final touch a baseball cap, also black and also
bearing the ITTO logo was perched on her head, affixed so that
the blond pony tail she now wore could dangle freely through the
cut-out in the back of the cap. 

He smiled down on her and called her softly by the silly English
name she had been given.  And she raised her head to look up at
her master from under the broad visor of the baseball cap,
presenting him with an upturned face sticky with male spendings
-- the honorable Mr Moto's drying sperm decorating her pretty
blond features.

She promptly gave him a great big smile.  The thick wads of gooey
semen oozed down her cheeks, smeared her lips, and dribbled down
her chin.  He looked down on the brightly smiling, cum-splattered
face, and he laughed.   It was a priceless picture.  Later, he
would take that picture with his new digital camera, and perhaps
share his private bukkake collection with the world via the
internet.

But for now inspired by the stirring sight of his beautiful blond
mistress wearing his sperm, he closed the pages of the report
before him.  He would try his hand at a haiku:

Rain falls soft or hard
The dove
Is grateful

******

The transformation was now complete.  Hard-driving executive
Caitlin O'Reilly would soon become a distant memory.  The
once-proud CEO and corporate attorney knelt at the feet of a
powerful corporate leader, with sperm dribbling down her chin,
being spirited away to a new life in Japan.  When he tired of
her, as he inevitably would (for there had been others before her
and they had gone the same route), she would be passed along,
dispatched to the exclusive house of pleasure run by the
honorable Herakini-San.  She would, of course, obey, although she
would beg to be allowed to take along the laptop computer, from
which she could not bear to be separated; he would allow her that
-- as a parting gift.


End of Part 3
The End
Copyright 2001, Don Winslow
Email: dwin2001@yahoo.com
More of Don Winslow's erotic fiction may be found at:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Don_Winslow/www 




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