ALL I EVER WANTED 03 THE MEGUMI STORIES BY MEGUMI KATO AND FRIENDS VOLUME 02: ALL I EVER WANTED BY MEGUMI KATO AND SAMANTHA WEST CHAPTER III Taking Stock I luxuriated in the penthouse suite's big bath, scooping armfuls of foam onto my breasts and stomach. It was time for a little stock-taking. The first and most important event in my sexual development had been when, at the age of twelve, I had so exasperated a schoolmaster in whom I fancied myself in love that he had walloped me soundly on my regulation school knickers. This combination of rebuke and reward had given me a healthy respect for schoolteachers, which had seen me safely through to my graduation from high school. But, much more important, it had coincided not only with my first love but also with my first experiments in masturbation. It had therefore firmly established in my growing sensuality the importance of pain as a source of sexual pleasure. This precious possession had then lain largely dormant for a few years while my sexuality grew in otherwise normal ways, and I developed a healthy interest in the standard pleasures of heterosexual fucking. It was not until I was seventeen that Ken, my first serious lover, reawakened my masochistic tendency. A budding film director, he had already taught me to enjoy pornographic videos, and I was a devoted fan of an actress called Mie Takahashi, who starred in the products of the Marucho Company. Even though I secretly knew it was a hopelessly unrealistic ambition, I had set my heart on getting a job with that company once I had graduated from high school. One of Miss Takahashi's videos included a lovely torture sequence. I had never seen such a thing before; and when I saw her tied up, exquisitely nude and helpless, submitting so beautifully to the sadistic ingenuity of her captors as their whips whistled round her, it was as if a great light went on inside me. I wanted Ken to tie me up and whip me like that too. He was willing enough, and soon he developed my long-dormant gift till it was a key element in my everyday sex-life. But I kept up my interest in straightforward fucking as well; and under Ken's guidance also developed my natural talent for acting and a newly discovered delight in exhibitionism. That is a fancy word for something very simple. Like many young girls I had found that I adored showing off my prettily developing body nude in public. I loved being innocently provocative and taking the delightful consequences. While waiting for my chance with Marucho, I had great fun - and earned a little pocket-money - as a stripper in the theatres in the Asakusa district. Being the only girl, naked in a room full of aroused men, had long been one of my favourite bedtime fantasies, and now I could display myself naked before a real audience. I found it incredibly exciting; night after night I would end my act completely nude and aroused beyond endurance, imploring lusty members of the audience to come up on stage and fuck me. A girl's first experience of sex in public is tremendously important to her, I think. Sometimes it happens naturally at a sex party; or a girl may go with friends to a strip show, not really knowing what to expect, and find herself invited to take part in an Amateur Night.[2] I at once became totally addicted to public sex and nudity, which is something I now know happens to a lot of girls. Meanwhile I had a few lesbian encounters: enough to satisfy my curiosity. Then when I met Mr Otani he introduced me to the delights of anal sex, and it seemed my basic sexual repertoire was complete. Marucho took me on and were pleased with my progress. I was in Heaven. All I ever wanted was to be fucked, to be whipped, then to be fucked again ... in as many different ways and with as many people watching as possible ... From the start Mr Otani took a special interest in me, both as an actress and as a sex partner. So the next item in the stocktaking had to be about him. He had somehow spotted the importance of my early masochistic experience as a key to my sensuality. Perhaps he thought it desirable to refresh it from time to time. In our regular sexual work-outs he helped me to re-enact it, playing the part of the angry, adored schoolmaster and - usually - caning my arse with a ferocity which reinforced beyond any mistake the link in my psyche between love, pain and sexual ecstasy. I wriggled my bottom in the bathwater, and caressed my little, erect clitoris with my fingertips, as I recalled the exquisite bite of Mr Otani's cane, scoring line after line of fire into my thrilled arse, each a precise millimetre below its predecessor. Tonight that had not happened. Instead Mr Otani had presented me with a wonderful new fantasy, in which my _sensei_ succumbed to my pubescent sexual allurement, in a way he would never have dreamt of doing in reality. I knew I would be taking that fantasy to bed with me on many future occasions. That was nice of him, but why had he done it? More important, why did Mr Otani pay so much attention to me, when he could have any girl he wanted? And why was I so fascinated by him, when I had already had more lovers than I could count, and longed to have many more? The second question was easy to answer. My father had died when I was young, and my most memorable lovers had been older, dominating men. My feeling for Mr Otani was obviously what we call in Japanese a _faaza-kon_: a father-complex. Most Japanese girls are in thrall to that obsession, even if their lovers and eventual husbands are their own age. Bob Williams, one of my most interesting _gaijin_ lovers, once explained to me that the charm of Japanese girls is not just that we are prettier, cleaner and more sexually pleasing than Western girls (though we are, of course): it is that we are naturally submissive, masochistic and searching for a father-figure to replace the daddy who was never at home when we were growing up. And of course the way to keep the fantasy-father at home is for the fantasy-daughter to entice him with her sweet young sexuality. That, Bob explained to me, is why even grown-up Japanese girls flavour the sexual menu they offer their lovers with the spice of immaturity and childishness.[3] The sad thing is that many a girl's _faaza-kon_ goes unrequited because she cannot find an older man with a matching _rori-kon_ or Lolita-complex. Lots of Japanese men lust after daughter-substitutes, of course: you only have to look at the armies of Office Ladies or OLs, with their girlish voices and pretty, miniskirted uniforms, who keep the morale of the Japanese economy going. The current craze for _enjo kosai_ or "assisted dating" has produced a whole network of agencies which help eager Japanese _kogaru_ or "little girls" meet older men to whom they gladly offer their young bodies, longing to learn the techniques of sex from experienced partners who will reward them with gifts of fashionable clothes and accessories. It is a wonderful development, and I wish it had existed when I was at school, but really it is just the latest way of matching the mutual desire of father-substitutes and Lolita-daughters. Did Mr Otani, who was anyway only half Japanese, feel that way? And, even more important, did he feel it about me? This was becoming very deep, and the bathwater was growing cold. I heaved myself upright and gave myself a final hot shower, before drying myself and petting my still stinging behind with lotion and powder from the hotel's collection. I tiptoed naked into the drawing-room. Mr Otani was playing one of the background music CDs supplied by the hotel for its cherished customers. As I entered he smiled at me, sitting on a sofa in a towelling robe. I rescued my few clothes and retreated to the bedroom. I returned in my shoes and gloves, and wearing the tiny panties which had been such a success with my _sensei_ - or with Mr Otani's performance of him. The music was still playing. I danced for him, lasciviously stroking my breasts and arse with my silver hands, hinting at how much I wanted him to stroke them for me. He watched me with pleasure, but with no obvious reaction. I stripped for him, making the most of the little I had to take off. I fetched him the cat-o'-nine-tails, and made him stand up and whirl it to and fro between us as I danced in and out of range, my long hair floating round me as I twisted and turned in the spray of lashes, flirting with them, giggling and squealing with pleasure as they randomly flicked and stung my eager flesh. At last I came to a stop and, laughing happily, presented my arse to him for a delicious final whipping before we both collapsed out of breath onto the sofa. "Gods, that was fun!" I gasped. "We must do that again next time. Now I want to be fucked!" "Oh, Megumi!" he laughed, "again?" "You know me," I said, snuggling closer to him. "When I've been fucked, I want to be whipped. When I've been whipped, I want to be fucked again." He groaned with - false? - reluctance, but I took him by the hand to the bed and made him lie naked on his back. His cock was half erect and I sucked and stroked it till it was ready for me. Then I straddled his waist, kneeling upright as I pulled him fully into my cunt, masturbating myself with his firm rod while he lay back and let me do it, watching me with an amused smile. At last I could feel him approaching a climax, and his strong arms held me tight on top of him as we came together. Afterwards, I puzzled again over the thoughts that had come to me. Tentatively, I asked him: "Sir, am I your Lolita?" "How do you mean? Lolita was only fourteen, wasn't she?" Perhaps, living mostly in America, he hadn't heard the expression _rori-kon_. It had only recently become fashionable in Japan. "Well, am I your little daughter?" "Yes, my clever little Megumi, that's just what you are." "Thank you, father, I'm so happy," I murmured, as I curled up beside him in the big bed and slipped into the happy, fulfilled sleep of a well-fucked, well-whipped girl. == Matsumoto-san had turned her room in the mansion into a close imitation of her lair at Marucho's headquarters, dominated by a group of folding chairs and a table littered with Japanese teacups around which intimate discussions took place. Unusually for me I was wearing a long skirt, and sat down opposite her, gingerly at first, then wriggling my bottom lasciviously as the stinging remains of Mr Otani's whippings recalled the previous evening's pleasures. "Ah, I see a girl who had a good time last night!" she exclaimed with her famous sexy chuckle. No one seems to know if Matsumoto-san still has a sex-life. It is generally agreed - even by herself in expansive moments - that she was one of the company's first and most successful actresses, and the mistress of the first Mr Nagao. But that was a long time ago. Now she just says, "The only pleasure I get these days is hearing what you sexy little trollops have been up to!" Certainly she takes the trouble to dress us up for our dates in ways which ensure that we get up to a lot. I gave her a brief account of what Mr Otani and I had done to each other. I added that, although the evening had been deeply fulfilling, I had been surprised that he had not chosen to use the cane on me. Nor had he fucked my arse, which was normally a climax of our evenings together. After all, since it was he who had taken the virginity of my coy little rosebud, on my never-to-be-forgotten eighteenth birthday, it was in a way his to do what he liked with. At Matsumoto-san's insistence, I gave her a detailed account of the new way the two of us had acted out the schoolroom scene. "He's no fool, that man!" cried Matsumoto-san. "He's a lot of money invested in your cute arse, and the movie isn't finished yet. I bet he wanted to make sure you were fit to play the orgy scene tomorrow." "M'm, yes, maybe, but why didn't he say so?" "Because he took the opportunity of giving you a new version of what went on between you and that teacher, and didn't want to spoil the surprise." "Yes, I expect you're right. It was lovely, anyway. He came four times. That's nothing for a girl, of course, but it's a lot for a man, isn't it? In one session." My mind kept wandering around last night's pleasures. "Did I tell you how we invented a new way of using the cat? With him swishing it to and fro and me dancing in and out of the lashes as if they were spray? Oh, _that_ was nice." "Yes, dearie, you told me. If I were twenty - no, fifteen - years younger I'd ask to join in." "Matsumoto-san, did you enjoy being whipped in your time too?" I knew she had done, because she had told me often enough, but it pleased her to be asked. "Did I? Dearie, I was the greatest! There was never anyone like me. Old Mr Nagao always said so. One day I'm going to lean really heavily on that young man -" she meant the present Mr Nagao, another father-figure in my eyes "- and make him get my films out of the storeroom. If they transfer them from celluloid to video ... you young trollops will have to learn a few new tricks if you're to compete with me in my prime. There's still a Matsumoto Fan Club, you know. I still get letters." "You mean, they can still see well enough to write?" I teased her innocently. "Get along with you! You're not the only one who gets proposals of marriage." I blushed. There had been one proposal, so elegant and moving, accompanied by such a handsome photo, that I had been quite sentimental about it for a few weeks. Until, that is, an enquiry agency which did occasional jobs for Marucho had established that my admirer was a fifty-eight year old retired university professor, smelling of Jintan - a rather old-fashioned patent medicine - and with a domineering wife and three grown children. "That reminds me!" cried Matsumoto-san. "Has it ever occurred to you that your Mr Otani may be training you up as a future wife?" I put down my teacup and stared at her. This was all going much too fast for me. I had established that we had - at least on my side, and perhaps on his - a father-daughter relationship. It was a fixation, a fantasy, rather than the real thing, so there was no reason why it should inhibit our sexual obsession with each other. So far as I could see, it made the sex even better. That insight from last night was a wonderful new thought which I wanted to have time to enjoy and treasure. But to go on from there to suggest that he might seriously want to take me as a daughter-wife was further than I had ever imagined. Something suddenly occurred to me. "If he did ever want me like that, wouldn't that mean ... being fucked and whipped by him ... every night?" Of course there would be other girls. But surely his chosen wife would have first call on his sexual energies. It was a vision of such glory that I didn't mind when Matsumoto-san burst into peals of rich laughter. "Oh, dearie, you are so funny! Of course it would! To begin with, at least. What else do you think people get married for? They've found a brand of sake they fancy and want to go and work in the brewery for the rest of their lives. It doesn't last, of course. But it's good while it does." "Have you ever been married, Matsumoto-san?" "No, dearie, not me. Fun without responsibility, that's my motto. Or used to be. Nowadays the only fun I get ..." "... Is hearing what we sexy little trollops have been up to," I completed in time with her. "Well, you can laugh. They'll be queuing up for that cute arse of yours for a while yet. Enjoy it while it lasts. And don't forget it was old Matsumoto who taught you some of the tricks. But you have to think of the future." She poured herself more tea, blew it to the right temperature, and swallowed half of it. "I'll tell you one thing. If Mr Otani ever wants to marry you, say 'yes', but not until he's told you the truth about whether he has any children. Or wants any. You need to know what you're taking on." "Has he any children?" I asked, fascinated. "I know he's had girls - hundreds, thousands of them - but I hadn't heard that." "There are rumours, said Matsumoto-san airily. "You just make him tell you the truth. Now run away and enjoy your day off. I've got four housemaids' uniforms to get into good order for tomorrow. How you girls get these costumes into such a state I just do not know." FOOTNOTES [2] That is what happened to me, as you may remember if you have read the first volume of my memoirs! I was surprised to find that in Western countries girls do not go to strip shows. In Japan it is quite common to see girls in the audience, in groups or with their lovers, picking up tips from the professionals. When the manager sees a pretty girl in the audience, then of course it turns out to be Amateur Night - and Japanese pressure to conform, and a Japanese girl's natural inclination to be obedient, ensure that she gets up on stage and shyly does her best. Once she has tasted the delights of being nude, and fucked, before an appreciative audience she is hooked, and keeps coming back for more. [3] Well, that's the way he put it anyway - quoting one of his articles for American magazines I expect. [Next in Part 04: Chapter IV: The Girl from Saks] For complete series so far see /files/Authors/Bob_Williams