I AM NOT ASHAMED 12 THE MEGUMI STORIES BY MEGUMI KATO AND FRIENDS VOLUME 03: I AM NOT ASHAMED BY KIMIKO KOBAYASHI AND MEGUMI KATO CHAPTER XII The Next Day Breakfast had arrived in our sitting-room while I was day-dreaming on the bed, and now I sat naked opposite David at the little table, pink and warm from my bath and from his attentions to me, luxuriously wriggling my tender bottom against the rough cloth of the chair. "Please tell me something," I said shyly as I leant forward, conscious of his eyes on my naked breasts, to pour us both more coffee. "Of course." "D'you remember, yesterday at dinner, you said there was something about me ... something that you especially liked?" "Yes?" "What was it?" "I thought you already knew." "No, tell me. I want to hear it." "Well, you know I love Japanese girls." "And I expect you've had _lots_," I said, trying not to sound accusing. "Yes, quite a lot. Not nearly enough, though." "And I bet you loved them more than you love me," I said, not wanting to say it but unable to prevent myself. "I thought you wanted to hear what makes _you_ special." I said nothing, just looked at him with my eyes sparkling. "The part of Japanese girls I love best is their cute bottoms and thighs." "But that's the _worst_ part!" I protested. Surely he was making fun of me. "So fat, and short ..." He ignored me. "All the time I've lived in Japan, I've been looking for the girl with the perfect arse. I knew she must be there somewhere. And even though I never found her, it's been such fun looking." "Beast!" "And then yesterday I found her at last. I saw you standing there on the train in front of me, showing me your bottom so sweetly, and I knew my search was over." I blushed, and wriggled luxuriously again on my seat. "What would you have done if I hadn't come back?" "Oh, I don't know, gone through the train looking for you I expect, begged you to take pity on me ... Tell me, do you always wear skirts that show off your bottom and legs so nicely?" "That skirt doesn't _really_ show my bottom, does it?" I asked anxiously. "Of course it does, darling - you know very well it does. That's why you wear it, of course. Do you think I couldn't see you showing it off to me, wriggling it slightly and hoping I would react?" I blushed again. That was just what I _had_ done. The old feeling of shame at my behaviour began to flood through me again. But I was so glad I had done it. "Now that I know you like it," I said, "I promise I'll always wear skirts like that for you ... for _all_ my lovers." "What do you mean?" he asked severely. "Are you planning to have other lovers besides me?" "Oh, yes ... lots and lots and _lots_!" "You naughty little slut!" There had once been a time, I thought, when I would have been horrified to be called that. Now it made me giggle delightedly. "Am I naughty?" I asked, trying to tempt him. "Yes, very." "Punish me?" I suggested hopefully. "Punish me for being naughty, and for being a little slut?" "Later, perhaps. Make me fuck you first." I got up, walked over to where my clothes were lying in a muddled heap from yesterday, and clipped the little white strip of plastic material round my naked bottom. I stepped into the high-heeled black shoes and paraded round the room for him till I could see that I had got the result I was hoping for. I went back to the breakfast table, wheeled it out of the way, and knelt before my wonderful lover. "Come in my mouth, please, darling," I murmured. He lay back in his chair and let me use him. I did not swallow him this time, just took him as far into my mouth as I comfortably could, my tongue reaching out to flick around the roots of his cock, while my fingers tickled his balls and the sensitive folds where the tops of his thighs reached his crotch. I varied my technique as much as I could but soon enough I had my reward as the salty cream, tasting like frothed egg-white, spurted uncontrollably into my mouth. "What time is your train back to Tokyo?" he asked after a while. "Oh, er, 1447 I think," I replied, still licking my lips. Fortunately I knew how long the run from Osaka to Kyoto was supposed to take. Add two minutes for the stop in Kyoto ... Oh, I hoped he would not ask to check my ticket! "We must hurry!" he said. I'm supposed to be showing you Kyoto!" "Do I have to?" I asked rebelliously. "I'd much rather stay here and ... and be a naughty little slut." The words were such a perfect description of what I wanted to be - already _was_ - that I could not let go of them. "Yes, you do have to. If you're going to be a success with your lovers, a perfect bottom isn't enough. You need to be able to talk intelligently too." "You said you liked my bottom." "I do. I adore it. If I could, I'd spend the rest of my life kissing it and fucking it." "And whipping it ... and caning it?" I asked anxiously. "Of course. That too. But unfortunately I can't fuck non-stop the way you can. So there have to be other things we can do together in between. This morning I'm going to show you the Kiyomizu Temple." "Is that the one on the great wooden platform?" I asked hesitantly, faint memories stirring of myself as one of a crowd of giggling schoolgirls shepherded by tired, cross teachers. "That's right! I knew you weren't as ignorant as you pretended." "All right, then." I decided to wear my transparent blouse, white miniskirt and new boots, as I had done the day before, but with two differences. I wore no tights; and, just in case, I coiled two of my ropes as tightly as I could and slipped them into the pockets of my short coat. For a moment I considered wearing nothing under my skirt at all, so as to be ready for anything my lover might have in mind; but the skirt was so short, even when covered by my coat, that in the end I wore my little g-string panties as well. They would come off easily enough if I found they weren't wanted! As we left the hotel, David arranged for us to keep the room a couple of hours after normal check-out time and, to avoid delays, he asked to pay the bill at once. Twenty minutes later a taxi dropped us at the foot of the long path which leads up through rows of shops to the entrance to the Kiyomizu Temple. With the many other visitors in couples and groups, we strolled past the souvenir shops, businesses specialising in fans and traditional ceramics, and small restaurants until we reached the huge entrance. David pointed out the large boards newly erected there, and, impatient with his slow progress through the Japanese script, I took over from him and read out the warning that persons staying in a certain hotel were not permitted to enter the temple. "What on earth is that about?" I asked when I had finished. David explained that a property company had recently got permission to erect a 60-storey building in front of Kyoto Station, much of it to be used as a hotel, and that many of the priests and abbots who owned the shrines and temples were furiously opposed to this desecration of Japan's cultural capital. "But they can't really stop people from one hotel, can they? How will they know which hotel anyone is staying in?" I asked. "Come on, darling, you know your own people better than that! The temple people can't know, but the visitors themselves will know, and they will feel terribly ashamed." I blushed, and thought that the sense of shame was after all an important part of the Japanese make-up. Perhaps I should take care not to lose the capacity for it altogether. We walked on, up the broad path through the outer precincts of the temple, till we came to the famous platform. I had forgotten how huge it was, supported on gigantic beams and tree-trunks as it projected over the steep valley. Like everyone else, we took pictures of each other leaning against the railing admiring the spectacular view over the city. I smiled indulgently at the hordes of giggling schoolgirls in their sailor-suit uniforms, trying to imagine myself one of them again. We walked on past the monks collecting signatures supporting world peace, and the eccentric elderly ladies trying to interest people in religious tracts. At the end of the platform were the racks to which petitioners tied wooden plaques after they had inscribed them with their prayers. For some reason these are known as _ema_ or "horse-pictures", which is correct only one year in twelve really as the blank plaques are always sold decorated with the calendar animal of the current year: today they all displayed paintings of a cock with long white feathers and handsome red crest. David lifted a few on their strings and read them. I was shocked - it had never occurred to me to read other people's prayers, however openly displayed. But it was interesting to see the worries and preoccupations of many ordinary visitors: "That Mother will get well soon;" "That I get a husband who will make me happy and take good care of me;" "For a safe childbirth;" "That I pass my nursing certificate exam." I had a sudden wild desire to buy one of the blank pieces of wood from the bored priest at the sales counter and offer a prayer "That I have many wonderful lovers who will fuck and whip me every night till I faint with pleasure." Only an inquisitive foreigner would notice if I did, and most of them cannot read Japanese anyway. Suddenly I thought, "The Lord Buddha will notice what I write. But then he loves and cares for me, and grants me what I want, in any case. He was with me on the train, and he is with me now." I felt guilty at having ignored his compassion; I excused myself a moment from David and ran back to the place where the huge shutters were lifted to show the dark inner sanctum. I joined the crowd gathered there in bowing my head and offering a wordless prayer - just a state of mind, really. I regretted not having a coin to throw into the big collection box, but he would understand. The broad path turned to the right and opened onto other platforms. We again took video shots of each other against the view, and then David recorded me laughing among a crowd of people all trying to catch in long-handled cups the clear water pouring down the hillside from which the temple gets its name. We went on, leaving the crowds behind us as we entered less frequented parts of the temple precincts. In an open space surrounded by ancient trees were two little red-painted shrines dedicated to Inari, God of the rice-harvest, each guarded by stone statues of the foxes who are the God's retainers. The shrines were neglected and it had been long since anyone had made offerings of food and sake on the miniature china dishes and bowls. I had nothing to offer except respect, and awareness that other Gods had inhabited this place long before worship of the Lord Buddha arrived from China, but I clapped my hands so they would notice me and bowed before each shrine in turn. Unlike Buddha, who never sleeps, the old Gods of Japan have to be woken and reminded that we still need them. David slipped his arm round me as he guided me uphill behind the shrines to a deserted area of the temple grounds. There were ancient trees, and I enjoyed the smell of pine in the fresh autumn air and the silence of the thick carpet of leaves. The temple itself seemed very distant among the red foliage on the hillside across the valley. When we were well out of sight of the path David took me in his arms, his hands sliding under my open coat, and kissed me. "Are you enjoying seeing Kyoto like this?" "Oh, yes! Seeing it with you is wonderful!" I hesitated a moment and then said, "David ..." I was about to ask him about the man he had brought to our room, the man who had whipped and caned me till I fainted from the joy of it. But I hesitated too long. "Are you sorry you missed Osaka?" he asked without any change of tone. For a moment I did not take in what he meant; then suddenly I blushed scarlet and could only gaze at him helplessly. "You were going to Osaka really, weren't you?" I was still speechless. Then as the implications of what he was saying began to sink in, I buried my face on his shoulder and did my best not to cry. "The conductor on the train thought you were. Of course, he could have been mistaken. But when I paid the bill at the hotel I found that the phone call you made to your friend was to an Osaka number, not local." Now I was really beginning to cry. "How's your ankle, by the way?" he asked. "I hope you haven't put too much strain on it with all this walking. The left, wasn't it? Or was it the right? Or can't you remember?" I said nothing. What could I say? "Do you often wiggle your bottom at strange men in the hope of getting picked up?" I absolutely had to say something now. "No!" I said tearfully, looking anxiously at his face. "Only for you. Once I had met you I couldn't bear to lose you. You said you felt the same way about me. And anyway," I continued, snuffling into his shoulder again, "I thought you liked my bottom." "Oh, you naughty little slut!" he said, his hands still caressing me under my coat, "don't you think you should be severely punished for being so deceitful?" I looked up at him again, this time eagerly. My heart was still beating fast, but in hope rather than fear of what he might be about to do to me. Had this all been an elaborate charade to build up to another wonderful session of sexual pleasure? But where? How? Meanwhile I knew what I had to say. "Yes, Master," I said submissively. "I deserve to be beaten very severely." He pulled away from me, and slowly drew the nine-tailed whip from his coat pocket. I gasped with astonishment; then, my eyes sparkling with excitement, put my hands into my own pockets and showed him my ropes. He let out a great shout of laughter. "Oh, darling Kimiko, isn't it marvellous that I found you and you found me on that train? Have you ever heard of two people so suited to each other?" He kissed me again, then turned me so that he could slip off my coat. He put it down neatly on the carpet of dry pine-needles, then commanded me to remove my skirt. I quickly undid the three silver snaps, and then the little bows which held up my panties, and handed him the scraps of material to place on top of my coat. I shivered a little in the autumn air as I stood naked apart from my boots and my silky transparent blouse. "Over here." He led me towards the largest of the trees, an ancient cryptomeria. At his instruction I leant against it, my arms trying to embrace its enormous trunk, my booted feet apart. My sensitive breasts rubbed through the thin blouse against the bark, and I could feel my nipples harden at its rough touch. David tied the end of one rope to my wrist, then pulled it tightly round the huge trunk before tying me again by the other. Then I could feel him do the same to my ankles, holding them comfortably apart. Now it was the turn of my pussy to feel and relish the close, rough contact of the tree. Somehow its ancient strength communicated itself to me, a sense of its extraordinary, centuries-old power sucking nourishment from the earth. "Ready?" "Yes, Master, I am ready. Please give me a lovely whipping. You know I deserve to be whipped really hard." I could hear behind me the erotic rustling of the lashes as my lover shook them out, practising his strokes before starting in earnest. My bottom tingled in excited expectation. Suddenly the whipping began, and I felt again the miracle of an appetite which increases indefinitely the more it is satisfied. As usual the first few strokes were agonisingly painful, but I longed for them because I knew I would soon find again the alchemy which transmuted them into liquid gold coursing through my body, redoubled by the strong touch of the giant tree against my nakedness. It was a comfortable, steady whipping compared with what I had been granted last night; but still I threw back my head and, as my voice screamed and implored, gazed up at the dark green foliage as if through an endless tunnel. Through the leaves the clear, high autumn sun shone on my upturned face, the Goddess smiling indulgently on her erring but blessed daughter. Suddenly the lashes stopped swishing exquisitely round my delighted body. I whimpered a complaint at being so unexpectedly deprived of the pleasure they were giving me and then, through the haze of golden light in me and around me, became aware of voices somewhere to my left. I turned my head and saw a couple standing, gazing at me in astonishment, David trying to reassure them that there was no need for them to interfere. As my eyes began to focus again on everyday things, I realised that I had seen the girl's woolly cap and dowdy clothes before. Beside her stood her solemn young husband. It was hardly surprising that they were visiting the same sights as we, or that on honeymoon they looked for places to be alone together just as we did. As I began to descend from the paradise to which David's whipping and the beautiful natural surroundings had raised me, I felt stirrings of an embarrassed shame which I thought I had put behind me. Hanging there against the tree, naked except for my transparent blouse and high-heeled boots, I began to respond, however unwillingly, to the agony of embarrassment obviously felt by the young couple. Suppressing my shame by concentrating on my own urgent desire - and recognising David's need for help - I called out begging him to continue my whipping as hard as he could. The effect on the young couple was only to send them into an even more rigid spasm of embarrassment and uncertainty. Fortunately David had been in Japan long enough to know that an uncertain, hesitating Japanese can be kick-started into normal action by presenting him with a cliche to which he can respond without conscious thought. He tucked the whip under his arm and, ignoring my anguished pleas to him to use it on me again, strode over to where we had left our coats and other belongings. He picked up my video-camera and handed it to the young husband. "Won't you take our photographs for us?" he asked politely. Automatically, the young man took the camera and began to fiddle with the controls. "Where would you like me to ...?" "By the tree, if you don't mind. Full-length." I could hear David approach me from behind. Suddenly the nine lashes once again burnt their random lines into my skin. I cried joyously as he lashed me steadily forty or fifty times, using all his strength but pausing a few moments after each stroke to let it sink in and send its individual nine-fold message of delight through my squirming body. Now his whipping was the equal of that of last night's stranger. I screamed and implored as loudly as I could, partly because it was the only way I knew to thank him, and partly because I wanted to convince myself that I felt no shame at having been detected by strangers enjoying this woodland idyll. At last my wonderful lover detected from the change in my voice - groaning rather than screaming with happiness now - and perhaps from the thick flow of love-juice making its way from my cunt down my inner thighs, that I had reached my climax. He left me dangling from the tree to enjoy it on my own. I had almost fainted from the pleasure when I became aware of him wiping my cunt and thighs with his handkerchief - no doubt to enjoy my aroma later. I felt him freeing me from my ropes and from the embrace of the friendly old tree. The girl ran forward to support me. "Did you really ... did you enjoy that so much?" she was asking me. "Oh _yes_!" I gasped as soon as I could speak, "it's the best ... most wonderful thing there is ... tied up and completely helpless ..." "You looked so happy!" she whispered. "Do you think ..." She looked longingly to where her husband was giving David back the camera. "No, he would never ..." She helped me over to where I had left my clothes. I hoisted my skirt round my naked bottom and forced the three snaps to meet over my lap. I couldn't be bothered with panties any more. I knew what I had to do. This young couple's happiness depended on what happened in the next few seconds. If the moment passed, they would be for ever separated from it, too embarrassed ever to suggest returning to it and trying again to take the right fork in the path. It was a sacrifice, but I walked back to the tree, picked up the ropes from where David had left them, coiled them neatly and handed them to her. "I want you to have these." "Oh, but ..." Her eyes showed me what I wanted to know. "I insist." Once again, David showed his understanding of what to do. He bowed to the young husband and with both hands presented him with the whip. "This is for you, with our best wishes for your future happiness." Even though there was a set reply to this formal sentence, the young man was too overwhelmed to say anything. We left them quickly; I glanced back just once to see the girl hugging the ropes to herself, her husband running the lashes of the cat through his fingers, while the two of them gazed into each other's eyes, knowing that their lives would never be the same again. David hurried me down the hill to rejoin the main path below the entrance to the temple. "That was generous of you," he said "Let me buy you some more ropes." "No, no, I can easily get them. But those ropes were special, because they were my first. I learnt from them." "Learnt?" I knew he was testing me, trying to see if I could say it outright without shame. "Learnt to like being tied up, being submissive, the joy of being whipped. Learnt the truth about myself and my sexual tastes. But _she_ needs them now. I'm sorry you had to give him your whip." "It doesn't matter. I have plenty more. And other things too. Anyway that was just a little cat I travel with, in case it comes in useful. If you ever visit me at home in Tokyo I'll show you my full collection of whips and canes, and you can choose the ones you like best." "If ...? But of course I'll visit you, if you'll let me. I know I have so much to learn from you." He kissed me, then looked at his watch. "We must hurry." "Are we going back to the hotel now? There are lots of nice things we could do together ... even without the whip." "No, not yet," he said. "I want to give you a present." "But you don't need to do that! You've already given me the best weekend a girl could have!" He stopped suddenly, half-way down the street of souvenir and craft shops. The people behind us bumped into us, then swept round us with apologies. "Will you trust me?" "Of course! What do you want to do to me?" "I want to give you something to remember me by, something that will always be with you. It will enhance your sex-life beyond anything you can dream of." I put my arms round him and hugged him, not caring if my short coat and skirt lifted to show my naked bottom. "It sounds _wonderful_, David, but what is it?" "Are you ready?" he asked in return. "Of course!" At the end of the street we had the good luck to find a taxi just dropping off some other visitors. The driver looked at me of course for instructions, but David gave him an address. Since he was clearly programmed not to understand anything said by a _gaijin_, I repeated it; and we were off. I had no idea where we were going. Kyoto was laid out in the 11th century in a grid pattern, and addresses are often just cross-references on the map. We soon left the temple buildings I remembered passing on our journey from the hotel, and entered an area of small shops and traditional houses. David was looking anxiously out of the window but at last recognised what he was looking for. He told the driver to stop, paid him and urged me down a side-street. There was a small junk-shop, its windows and outside stall piled high with discarded household china and cheap lacquer; even a framed, damp-stained portrait of the Emperor Meiji cut from a 19th-century magazine. Next to it was a workshop whose sign proclaimed it to be a producer of _tatami_ mats. But the establishment David was looking for was rather like an old-fashioned barber's shop - except that there was no striped pole outside. He slid open the door along its rattling track and called out apologies for the intrusion. An old man's voice replied with a greeting from the interior of the shop, and soon the proprietor shuffled in to stand behind the counter, which I now saw was stocked with traditional Chinese medicines. Was my souvenir of David to be some kind of aphrodisiac? I felt a little disappointed that he should think I needed such a thing - and weren't they dangerous? "Would you mind going over there, darling?" David asked. "The _sensei_ and I need to discuss something in private." The stone-flagged space where customers entering from the street could stand opened at one side onto a few mats of elderly, sagging _tatami_. The old man nodded at me with a hint of a smile, and I unlaced my boots before stepping barefoot up into the domestic area. There was a low table with an ashtray and an old lacquer box containing a chipped tea-set, and on either side a couple of _zabuton_ cushions in faded blue. I chose the more modest position, sitting with my back to the shop window, and busied myself with the tea-pot and the kettle of hot water humming quietly to itself on top of a kerosene stove which stood burning to one side of the table. The warmth and slight smell made me feel drowsy. In the distance I could hear the murmur of David's discussion with the old man. The _sensei_, as he had called him, was treating my lover's request with complete equanimity. I took a sip of tea. When I looked at the two again, the old man seemed to be drawing something on a scrap of paper, while David made respectful suggestions. At last David came over to me, stepped out of his shoes and joined me on the _tatami_. "Please come with me," he said, "your present is waiting for you." The old man preceded us into another room at the back of the shop. Here too a kerosene stove was burning and the stuffiness was making me increasingly sleepy. I could hear flies buzzing against the closed window-pane. Propped on the _tatami_ matting was a battered old chair with a steeply reclined back, and a set of instruments on a rack beside it. The room looked rather like a primitive dental office, except that the chair seemed to be equipped with leather straps to restrain the occupant's arms and legs. I looked at David in alarm. What were he and the old man planning to do to me? "Please trust me, darling," he said. "Of course I do," I murmured, and sat down unbidden in the chair. I leant back and the old man quickly adjusted the leather straps so that my arms were motionless along the edges of the chair, and my legs were spread wide. David bent over me and pulled open the three silver snaps down the front of my little skirt. "Lift your hips," he ordered me. I obeyed him - what else could I do? - and felt the shiny cloth slide out from beneath my bare bottom. I was now shamelessly and helplessly displayed, naked below the waist, my breasts quite clearly visible too under my transparent blouse. David moved up to talk to me. "I think it would be nice if you were blindfolded, darling," he said, "then you won't have to feel embarrassed about what's going to happen." "What _is_ going to happen?" I asked anxiously. "Don't worry about it: you'll find out soon enough." "Oh," I said, suddenly remembering, "don't forget to video it, whatever it is." "I won't forget." He produced his handkerchief, folded it into a strip and tied it tightly round my eyes. Of course I could do nothing to stop him. There was an intriguing, musky smell from the handkerchief, and I remembered that he had used it to wipe away the love-juice which had spurted from my pussy during that last heavenly whipping in the grounds of the Kiyomizu Temple. "If I'm a good girl, will you whip me again?" I asked softly. "Of course, darling. As much as you like." "Then I'll be good." Nothing happened for quite a while. I lay quiet and listened to the hiss of the kerosene stove, the buzzing of the flies and the indistinct murmuring of the two men, all interspersed with the distant sound of traffic on the main road. The thought of being so helplessly exposed to whatever was coming made my skin quiver with excited anticipation. All at once I felt a hot damp cloth being applied to my crotch, as fingers expertly cleaned me. After a few moments that was followed by a freezing sensation in the area at the top of my right thigh: my nose at once told me that I was being wiped with some kind of antiseptic or cleansing liquid. Another pause, then suddenly came the sharp sensation of a needle pricking my skin where I had been cleaned. I jumped at the pain, and a mutter of annoyance from the old man mingled with David's voice urging me to hold still. Compared with the glorious agony I had accepted from David's whip, the pricking of the old man's needles was only a small pain. But it was different from the pain I had learnt to love in that it never turned to ecstasy. I found myself relishing it for all that: its very purity titillated me. In the hour I spent in the tattooist's chair - because of course I soon recognised what was being done to me, blindfolded as I was - I learnt the pleasure of pain which has nothing to give but pain itself. The stimulation soon produced a sexual response in me and several times the old artist had to stop and wipe my cunt dry before my juices could interfere with his work. At last it was over, and the delicately tormenting needles had finished their work on both sides of my crotch. Fingers rubbed soothing cream into my skin. I heard the two men discussing the result, David congratulating the artist and the old man pretending to be dissatisfied - more time and several sessions were really needed for work of quality. Then David made me lift my bottom again, and my skirt was once more fastened round my hips. Only then did he remove my blindfold and the old man free me from the straps. "Well done, darling - you were very brave," he said. "But now we're in a terrible hurry if you're to catch your train." He thanked the old man hastily, and I politely averted my gaze as he paid the bill. Then the tattooist shuffled away into his private quarters, and we were hurrying down the narrow street in search of a taxi on the main road. == "You've just five minutes to get ready, if we're to catch that train!" David shouted as we burst into our hotel room. "So hurry! And whatever you do, don't waste time looking at my present now!" Almost in a panic I hurriedly used the bathroom, then dressed again as I had done yesterday at Tokyo Station in white g-string panties, black fishnet tights and black high-heels. Fortunately the complicated buttons of my transparent blouse were already done up. At the top of each thigh on the inside there was a place that felt swollen and sore under my skirt, but David was right: there was no time to examine them now. It flashed through my mind that it was as well I was not wearing more modest panties, or the elastic might have pressed painfully against the fresh tattoos. I tossed my remaining belongings into my bag, grabbed my coat and was ready thirty seconds before David's deadline. In the taxi to Kyoto Station we hastily exchanged phone numbers. I would have to take a risk on David calling me at the office: I could not face the hopeful enquiries of my mother if she heard me at home conducting intimate conversations with a lover. But I urged him to keep his calls as short and businesslike as he could. It was only when we were standing on the platform, my bag at my feet between the two lines marking the spot where the door to carriage no 13 would arrive, David's arms holding me tight under my coat as the train approached, that I suddenly remembered. "I was a good girl, wasn't I? At the tattooist's shop?" "Yes, darling, _very_ good." "You promised to whip me if I was good." "Sorry, darling, there just wasn't time. Anyway, I haven't got a whip now. We gave it away - don't you remember?" I thought of the prim, inexperienced honeymoon couple and wondered for a moment how they were getting on. But there was no time for that. "Next time we meet. I promise," David was saying. "Very, very, _very_ hard?" "Yes. With all my strength. Till you beg me to stop." "For ever and ever, then, darling." He was about to kiss me, but I stopped him. I had remembered something else. "And will you promise to piss on me again?" "Of course. If you promise to practice swallowing it the way I told you." There were only a few seconds left. "I will," I said. "And I'll piss in your mouth too, the way you like." "Oh, please darling. Keep it all for me. Every drop." Our lips met at last; then the train doors were opening and we had to stand aside for passengers arriving from the Okayama direction. As the two-minute stop ended the klaxon began to sound and I grabbed my bag and leapt into the carriage at the last moment. David was soon lost to sight as the train gathered speed, and I went to find my seat. There were more passengers than there had been on Saturday, but I still had a pair of seats to myself. I took off my coat and placed it folded neatly on the rack beside my bag, then settled down for the two-and-a-half or so hours of the journey. It suddenly occurred to me that I had had no lunch, and had no money to buy anything. David had obviously not thought of that - but why should he? He knew nothing of the Test. The ticket collector politely inspected my tickets, and then left me to watch the roofs of eastern Kyoto as we sped along the overhead tracks. I was soon lost in a delightful fantasy of working my way through the train, offering myself to each man in turn: mouth, cunt, arse ... But no, I had had a wonderful experience and had successfully completed my Test. That was enough. There was however one more thing I had to do. Balancing once again on my slender high heels against the swaying of the train, I made my way to the end of the carriage. There were appreciative glances as I walked gracefully along the central aisle, and there would be more to look forward to on my return. Why not? There was nothing to be ashamed of in looking beautiful and desirable. Choosing the western-style lavatory, I locked myself in and carefully pulled down my tights. I sat on the lid and examined myself. There they were, David's two presents, engraved for ever in the tender valleys of flesh just above the big tendons at the top of my thighs. On the right, a detailed representation of a coil of rope, its ends flying loose, ready to be tied. On the left, a little whip, its long flexible lash looped sprawling across my flesh. Every lover I ever had from this moment on would know of my special tastes. I could never deny them, but nor would I ever have to shame myself by describing them. All I had to do was shyly remove my panties and let him see. Every man to whom I showed myself naked in future would know at once that my desire was to be tied up, and then when I was completely helpless he would whip me till I fainted with joy. And there wasn't anything I could do to prevent it happening to me. Night after night. David's present to me was a whole new life. I wanted it to begin at once. [Next in Part 13: Chapter XIII: Interlude] For complete series so far see /files/Authors/Bob_Williams