Learning_About_Myself.14 THE MEGUMI STORIES 06/14 BY MEGUMI KATO AND FRIENDS VOLUME 06: LEARNING ABOUT MYSELF BY SAYAKA ONODERA AND BOB WILLIAMS FINAL REVISED EDITION Part 14 CHAPTER XIV My Second Client The man from the agency called the next day. "That was a good start, Hanako," he said without introduction. "The client was pleased. He said you were just the sort of girl he liked - and you made him come twice. How much did he tip you?" "Well ..." "All right, I'm not taking it away from you. Tips are yours. I make my money from my share of the fee he pays me for having you. But the size of the tip the client gives is a sign of how well you did." I told him how much had been in the brown envelope. "Not bad. You did well. He'll probably ask for you again, or recommend you to his friends. Did you enjoy yourself?" "Not much," I said with a sort of self-critical laugh. "No, he's not exactly a girl's dream, is he? My clients aren't, usually. But you're there to do a job. And now here's your next one. Got a pen ready?" Once again he gave me an address in a nondescript part of Tokyo, explaining that my client lived in an apartment block near a station on one of the commuting lines. He was a schoolteacher, he said, and since we were now of course into the school holidays he had nothing to do during the day. So he had booked me for an hour in the early afternoon. "What am I to wear?" "Yeah, you'll enjoy this," said the man with his unpleasant but somehow exciting laugh. "He has a fetish for _sadisu-chan_. You know, a little _roriita_ with a whip. I suppose being a schoolteacher he fantasises about his pupils. A lot of them do, the perverts. Not that it bothers me: that's how I make my money. Supplying them with girls like you to act out their fantasies with. He saw the pics of you as _sadisu-chan_ on our website and says he has to have you. Can you handle it? Got the kit?" "Well, I ... er ..." "Or shall I give the job to someone else?" I took a deep breath and pulled myself together. "I'll manage," I said. "Make sure you do. He's paying a good price." He hung up. My hesitation hadn't been concern about whether I could perform a _sadisu-chan_ routine. I had been longing to do that ever since seeing Reina's video - and I had done something of the sort before an audience with Harry and Anton. It was rather that Reina had supplied the costume I had worn for the publicity photos which had excited my new client, and she had taken it away again. I had very little time before my appointment the next afternoon to get it, or something similar, from her. I called her at once but her mobile was switched to voicemail. I left a panicky message, and began to wonder what on earth I should do if she was away or too busy to help me in time. Should I visit one of the sex-shops around Shinjuku Station, for example, and try to buy myself suitable clothes? And if I did, what would I do about money? Fortunately, Reina called back within the hour. I explained what I needed. "How very nice for you, dear!" she said. "Now, you must wear exactly what you wore in those photos. Men like that are obsessive. He'll have downloaded your photos with the corset and the whip and I expect he masturbated over them for days before making up his mind to call your agency." "What a waste!" I said with a giggle. "You must take this seriously, Saa-chan," she said severely. "He'll want you to be exactly the girl in the photos, his dream-girl." I apologised for my frivolity and lack of commitment to the company's interests. "I can let you have exactly the costume you were wearing. And the whip you were using. Anything else and he'll be disappointed, and may not be able to function. I'll bring it all to you in good time before your appointment. Oh, and do you want to watch my video again? Or another one like it? Are you sure you know what to do?" I said that would not be necessary: every detail of that section of Reina's video was imprinted on my memory and had accompanied me into lovely masturbatory fantasies ever since I had seen it. In fact it seemed that both I and my client would together be turning our fantasies into reality. I began to look forward to our meeting. Reina and I met in the empty house the following morning and she dressed me carefully in the red corset, collar, long gloves and high heels I had worn in the little studio a few days earlier. I was relieved to find that being dressed like that gave me the same tingling thrill as before. Then she handed me my equipment, item by item: a beautiful long whip with many knotted lashes, a pair of bondage handcuffs, and a black leather collar big enough for a man, with a lead already attached to one of its D-rings. I stored them all carefully in a shoulder-bag, then covered myself as best I could in my school overcoat - it was a warm day in early summer but of course I had no alternative - and set out on my adventure. As usual at that time of day the subway trains were fairly empty and the other passengers were mainly women going shopping or to lunch meetings with friends, but I had to refuse, as gently as I could, several attempts to pick me up. I suppose the high heels and red gloves visible under my coat, together with the smart shoulder-bag concealing who knew what, and my long hair hanging unconfined down my back, hinted at a girl who would be worth getting to know. But my encounters with my male fellow-passengers were good-humoured. I found my client's apartment block without too much difficulty after enquiring once at a local _koban_ or police-box. The policeman was helpful but took no special interest in me. Had he been inquisitive and asked whom I was visiting, I was prepared to say, fairly truthfully, that I was a schoolgirl calling on a schoolteacher for a special lesson. But it was not necessary.[21] I announced myself through the entry-phone and was told I was expected on the fifth floor. There was no one about when I left the elevator, so - very daring - I took off my coat and hung it over my shoulder. I walked round the little hallway to my client's apartment with as much of a swagger as I could manage: after all, I was to be the boss in our encounter, to begin with at least. He was waiting for me at his open door: a man in his fifties with greying hair and heavy glasses which he no doubt thought made him look intellectual. He was wearing only a towelling robe. As his mistress for the next hour I did not bow respectfully. I gave him a dismissive nod and waited for him to speak. He gazed at my provocative costume and I saw the skirt of his robe shift as his cock responded. Then he ushered me into the little apartment. I kept my shoes on - they were part of my costume - and marched down the corridor into the living-room. I dropped my coat on the couch and placed my shoulder-bag carefully on the floor. I took out the handcuffs and looked at him severely.[22] "You have been very naughty," I said. "I have heard about you. You molest your young girl pupils and think wicked thoughts about them. I am here to punish you. Take off your robe." "Yes, Mistress. I am very sorry." "Take it off! Hurry up." He hastily undid the belt of his robe, stripped it off and dropped it on the couch beside my coat. He was wearing dark grey underpants. I decided to let him keep them on for the moment. I took his hands and snapped the handcuffs round his wrists. He did not resist. Next I took the black collar from my bag and buckled it round his neck, while he obediently lowered his head to make it easier for me. I held the lead in one hand and reached for the whip with the other, flourishing it and letting the long, elegant lashes form random patterns in the air and on the floor. I had not let the whip touch him yet. "Oh, Mistress! Forgive me ... please don't hurt me!" he begged. "Down!" I commanded. He fell to his hands and knees. There was very little space in the tiny living-room, but he had obviously been through this routine many times before and crawled round the room as I followed him, holding his lead and whipping his bottom, back and thighs. When he came up against the wall I shortened the lead and stood by his head, making him kiss and lick my shoes as he begged for mercy. But it was far too early for mercy - and in any case he didn't really want it. I straddled his waist and whipped him energetically. His pleas for mercy changed into an incoherent babble of thanks. I stepped away from him and pulled on his lead. It was time for a change of position. In our progress round the room I had noticed a strong hook fixed into the ceiling outside the bedroom door. Clearly being suspended from the ceiling and whipped was part of his regular sexual routine. How interesting, I thought: this job is certainly teaching me about men and the things they like! A picture flashed through my mind of myself suspended and whipped like that. Not yet ... not yet! But it would be a nice thing for a girl to enjoy too - _very_ nice - and I was grateful to this man for making the arrangements so carefully. "Up!" I said. "And take those underpants off." "Must I, Mistress?" "Yes, you must," I said, flourishing my whip. "Quickly!" He obeyed me, revealing a flagging cock. His anxiety about what I had in mind for him was clearly overcoming his lust for me. Well, I would soon put that right, I thought. Prodding him with the whip handle I moved him to stand under the hook. I made him raise his cuffed hands above his head. Standing on tiptoe and raising the chain between his cuffs with the whip-handle, I managed to get it over the hook. As he hung there I smiled enticingly and stroked my breasts and pussy lasciviously with my free hand. His cock soon responded and jerked into renewed erection. "That's a good slave!" I said gently. "Now I shall whip you thoroughly. You'll enjoy that, won't you?" "Oh, Mistress, please don't hurt me!" he said pathetically. I didn't, of course. Not really. I swished the long lashes round his bottom and back in the way I was dreaming of having done to me. He whimpered and begged, but his erection remained strong and vigorous. After about fifteen minutes my arm was tired and I was longing for the relief his cock could bring me. "Now we'll go into the bedroom," I said, "and I will punish you more there." I unhooked him from the ceiling and made him precede me into the next room. I was relieved to see that the bed was clean and properly made. I made him lie on his back, dropped the whip on the sheet beside him, then knelt over his face looking down his body. I lowered my pussy over his mouth. He knew what to do all right! His hands seized my tightly corseted waist as well as the short chain of his handcuffs allowed, and he began to slurp up the juice which had accumulated in my cunt. Once he had enjoyed that, he gave attention to my pleasure and skilfully stimulated my clitoris with the tip of his tongue. He deserved a reward for that, so I stripped off my gloves to keep them clean and began to stroke his handsome erection. Incoherent cries of gratitude vibrated into my cunt. I was finding it more and more difficult to keep control of the situation. But then ... I didn't want to any more. The scenario required that I _lose_ control, and soon ... I stopped stroking his cock for a moment and, taking his hands as they squeezed my waist, pressed the quick-release mechanism on his cuffs. Pulling them off him, I put them on the edge of the bed to join the whip. I unbuckled the collar from his neck and added it to the heap with its lead still attached. He should have no difficulty in taking command now. I leant forward and gave his cock a few more loving strokes before reluctantly withdrawing my pussy from his mouth and swinging round over his body so that I was facing him as I slowly impaled myself on his cock. I could feel it throbbing rapidly in line with his excited heartbeat. I remained upright as I slowly rose and fell, masturbating my hungry cunt with his wonderfully rigid erection. His hands seized my corseted waist again: now free from the imprisoning handcuffs they could squeeze me more firmly and cruelly than before. I could feel my orgasm building. Was I in control as I gripped his cock with my cunt-muscles or was he? It didn't matter: I was eager to surrender to him. His orgasm was close too: I could feel his cock thickening further as his balls forced the jolts of cum along it ... and then, yes, exploding into my pussy! I screamed with the joy of it and collapsed onto his chest, thanking him incoherently. I knew of course what I had to do next - wanted to do next. As soon as I had myself under control I sat up again, released his cock while holding it upright with one hand, wriggled further down the bed and began to lick it clean, greedily sucking up the remaining cum mingled with my own thick juices. "Oh, thank you, _sensei_, thank you!" I murmured as I completed my task. It was natural enough to address him as _sensei_: he was after all a schoolteacher. But I wanted him now to take the dominant role; and while addressing him as Master would mark too sudden a change, reminding him that he was a teacher and I was a schoolgirl would be a clear hint that I was ready to submit to his authority ... did he beat girls like me on their regulation school knickers while they wriggled and squealed, not sure whether they were supposed to be feeling the strange new pleasures surging through them? I did hope so. While I had always been a good and obedient girl who was never punished at school, I know now that the greatest lesson a schoolmaster can teach pubescent girl pupils is the joy of masochism. My client/victim - now my client/master - sat up suddenly. He plumped up the pillows but before telling me to lie down commanded me to put my gloves on again. "You like me in gloves?" I said coyly. "Yes. You look very slutty like that. And young sluts should be punished." "Yes, _sensei_. Please, _sensei_. Thank you, _sensei_." I wiped my hands on tissues from a box on the bedside table, then pulled on my long red gloves, trying to make them lie tight and smooth on my arms. Then I looked up at him submissively. He took my right hand and attached one shackle of the handcuffs to it. On his instructions I lay at full length on my front, while he threaded the chain through the head of the bed and fixed the other shackle round my left wrist. He unclipped the lead from the collar he had worn, snapped it to the D-ring at the back of mine and used it to pull my head up. "Now it's my turn," he said. "Slut! Tuck your knees up and stick your bottom out." "Yes, _sensei_." As soon as I had obeyed him, he jerked the lead again, forcing my head back as far as it would go. Then it began ... stroke after stroke with the multiple knotted lashes, my bottom blazing in its flaming embrace, its fiery love flooding through me, making my sensitive breasts shiver as if they too were being kissed by the whip and my cunt gasp with heavenly lust ... I was screaming, trying with part of my mind to implore him to be merciful, not to hurt me, in the way I had been told men found pleasing and stimulating - but knowing that I was in fact beyond such coy deception and was blurting out the truth: that I wanted nothing more than to go on experiencing this wonderful fulfilment, to be whipped harder and harder, more and more lovingly ... the whole bed was vibrating as I pulled against the head with my chain, rocking to and fro as I tried to welcome each joyful kiss. I suppose it lasted about twenty minutes, though time meant nothing as the whip drove me on and on, up towards paradise. At last it stopped. He let go of my lead and I collapsed fully onto the bed, weeping, gasping and begging for more. "Did you enjoy that, slave?" he asked, lifted my head with the handle of the whip under my chin. "Oh, yes, _sensei_ ... yes, Master!" I managed to say. "You see how I revenge myself for what you did to me." "Yes ... yes ... thank you!" "Knees up again!" he commanded. For a blissful moment I thought he was planning to whip me again. But then - almost as wonderful - I felt his hands stroking and squeezing my fiery bottom, his fingers entering and tickling my unsatisfied pussy. Then the bed heaved behind me, hands roughly seized my thighs and his cock began to force its way into my cunt. Again I screamed with joy, leaning back against him and wanting to pull him deep, deep inside me. It did not last long. The whipping had excited him as much as it had me. Only too soon he pulled out of me, twisted me roughly onto my back, and directed his cock towards my lips as he brought himself to orgasm. I opened my mouth, of course, but he came messily - about half his cum spurted into me but the rest splashed over my face and breasts. My hands were still chained to the bed-head but I was able to bend round and take his cock into my mouth before it shrank, sucking out the last drops and licking it clean. He released my hands from the cuffs and I lay exhausted on the bed, smiling happily up at him. "You weren't supposed to do that, you know," I said once I had my breath back. "I was supposed to whip _you_. Punish _you_. But ohh ... I'm so happy that you did!" He did not reply, but as a last tender gesture he picked up the whip and let the tips of its lashes trail, oh so gently, over my breasts and then down over my corset till they could tickle my crotch and thighs. I opened my legs so that my lover, my beautiful multiple whip, could caress my pussy. "That was nice," he said as he at last withdrew and stood up. "You were good. Very good. All the way through." "Thank you. I'm glad I pleased you." "You'd better go and clean up." He indicated the door to the bathroom. Once inside I stripped off my gloves again and wiped myself as best I could. I didn't want to take off my corset: it felt too good, and it would be difficult to put it on again properly without help. When I returned he had moved back to the living-room and had wrapped himself in his robe. "That is for you," he said, indicating an envelope on the low table. "Oh, but ..." "Take it. You deserve it." I bowed low. "Thank you. Perhaps if I pleased you, you may summon me again?" "Yes. I may." I gathered together my belongings and put on my coat. "Well, good-bye. And thank you. Till next time ..." "Yes. Till next time." I had reached the station before I remembered the need to telephone the office to report that I had finished with my client. I reached home well before my mother, of course, undressed and took a thorough shower to remove the smell of sex which still clung to me. After putting on ordinary clothes I considered what to do with my corset and other _sadisu-chan_ equipment. I had nowhere to hide anything like that - but did I need to? My mother had assured me my new chest was private. But it is very difficult to be entirely private in a crowded Japanese home. That, I suppose, is why we Japanese are good at not knowing things about each other that we do not need to know. I did not think she would break her promise - and if she did, she could not say anything. In a way, it would be convenient if she did look in my private chest and see my new clothes and equipment: that way, she would discover the truth about my new life as a call-girl and prostitute without my having to tell her and without her having to know more than she wanted to know. So I folded up my corset and put all the items neatly away in the bottom drawer. FOOTNOTES [21] The street-level policing of Japanese cities is done from a network of "police-boxes" on street corners each staffed by one or two local policemen who know their area and its inhabitants well. In residential areas they are a familiar and well-respected institution. The address system in big cities is so chaotic that it is normal for a stranger looking for a building to seek directions from a police-box. It was probably just as well that Sayaka was not asked whom she was visiting: an experienced local policeman would have a pretty shrewd idea of what "his" residents were up to, even if their activities were not criminal. An unmarried middle-aged man with a stream of young girls calling on him for an hour or so would certainly be noted, even if the police saw no reason to do more than gently warn inexperienced girls against him. - B W [22] If you have ever watched a _sadisu-chan_ in a video or enjoyed her delightful services on a trip to Japan, you will know that she is hardly "severe" in a Western sense. Unlike a Western dominatrix she does not treat her victim/client with contempt. She is rather a mother berating a child for bad behaviour and the whipping she metes out is like a strict but affectionate treatment designed to cure his naughtiness. When, after a token struggle, she surrenders the whip her cute submissiveness is like a reward to a child who has taken his medicine obediently. This motherly performance by a sexy young girl is very piquant and adds to the delight of an encounter with a _sadisu-chan_. And as every _gaijin_ in Japan soon learns, however unusual a man's sexual interest it will not be despised or looked down on. Rather it will be welcomed as another variation in the rich pattern of sexuality. And anyway, you are both acting a part and doing it with sincerity. - B W [Next in Part 15: Chapter XV: The Man at Roppongi Hills] For complete series so far see /files/Authors/Bob_Williams