UNFINISHED AFFAIRS 13 THE MEGUMI STORIES BY MEGUMI KATO AND FRIENDS VOLUME 04: UNFINISHED AFFAIRS BY BOB WILLIAMS ASSISTED BY MEGUMI, CHIYOKO, HANAKO, SAMMY, HIROKO, NATSUKO, SACHI, MAKI, YUKI AND AYAKO PART 13 CHAPTER XIII Training Session Perhaps you remember Chiyoko. I met her at a sex-party when she was still very young, took her home and had the pleasure of introducing her to the whip. She adored it. Perhaps that changed her life, because she became one of the very rare girls in the sex industry whose sensuality is so finely developed that they are asked for by wealthy patrons with very special tastes, planning very special events. An editor pressed me to write what I knew of this area of the sex industry - but of course I couldn't. I should never have been forgiven for betraying confidences. But Chiyoko was willing to describe how I helped her reach the height of sensuality and the pinnacle of her profession. I only wish I deserved her admiring description! "I have some new equipment to show you," said Bob. "Oooh, lovely!" I said. "You always have such wonderful ideas." "Yes, I think you'll enjoy this. I'll certainly enjoy watching you suffer in it." "Is it very special?" "Oh, yes. It's rather old fashioned, but I think the old torture-masters had the best ideas. Anyway, your session begins now." I scrambled obediently out of the sofa where I had been lying casually across his lap, and stood respectfully before him, my head bowed, my hands folded over my naked crotch. "Your slave awaits her Master's orders," I said in a little-girl voice. I've known Bob for a long while - since I met him at one of my first sex-parties, in fact - and we've had a lot of fun together. But recently I have started coming to him for regular bondage and torture sessions - officially for an hour at a time, but sometimes going on longer if we are enjoying ourselves too much to stop. Together we are developing my sensuality towards appreciation of the finer aspects of pain. Of course I have always liked being whipped - ever since a schoolmaster first caned me for misbehaviour. Most Japanese girls discover the sexual possibilities of pain and submission that way. But ability to respond with true ecstasy to extreme stimuli applied to my helpless nudity would add to my value as I climbed the ladder of the sex industry. Stripping, acting in fuck videos, public nudity and sex in clubs - all these were lovely and moderately well paid. But the really top jobs, the jobs I aspired to, were reserved for girls requested for private and very discreet parties. There a girl would be helplessly bound and tortured expertly to the ultimate extreme of orgasm, before rewarding her lovers with her own refined sexual skills. From that pinnacle of the profession - and of sexual gratification - a girl could, if all went well, retire as the chief mistress of a wealthy man whose expert sadism matched her perfectly trained masochism. Then, as the old tales say, she would live happily ever after, satisfying him and any of his friends he chose to lend her to. It is one thing to adore being whipped: as I say, most Japanese girls do. It is another to submit, with a carefully crafted mixture of modesty and desire, to the most sophisticated stimuli invented by great masters, encouraging and thanking one's torturers with apparently reluctant sexual response and shy desire for yet more torment. For a _gaijin_, Bob understood this very well; and we had arranged that I would come to him for training every Friday evening. We always started with some friendly flirting: I would strip naked of course, wearing only the high stiletto heels I knew he loved and perhaps some body jewellery, and we would pet and stroke each other as I told him about some of the more extreme fun things that had been done to me since we had last met, and he described his latest girls. Sometimes I would lie on the sofa and masturbate for him: of course all girls enjoy masturbating and take it for granted as a normal part of their daily sex routine, but not all realise how pretty it looks and how much men enjoy watching us do it! Then, suddenly, he would give me the signal that the serious work of the evening had begun and I would respond with one of the submissive replies he had taught me. "You know where to go then," he said abruptly. "Yes, Master," I said as I walked - trying not to show my eagerness - towards the room he had equipped as a torture-chamber. He had given me the code for the push-button lock, so I could enter on my own. Inside, I flipped on the lights and the elaborate array of spots which would soon be bathing my helpless body. I looked around for the new equipment he had promised me. The big whipping-frame, with its dangling ropes and chains, which I loved so much had been moved to one side. The door opened again and Bob entered. "Your usual place," he instructed me. Obediently I stood in the centre of the room where the whipping-frame had been. "Now here," he went on, "is the new instrument." From the corner of the room he pulled out a long, flat steel bar about one-and-a-half metres long. He showed me that it was in fact two bars joined together by a hinge at one end and a lock at the other. In three places the metal was curved into complete circles: small circles at each end and a large one in the centre. I did not need to be told what it was for. I raised my hands to the level of my head, and Master opened the hinged bar then closed it again, so that my neck fitted snugly into the central ring and my wrists into the two smaller ones. The sound of a strong padlock clicking shut sent a tingle of anticipation through me. Being helplessly locked into some cruel device, condemned to accept whatever thrilling tortures are in store, always makes me shiver with delight. Though the curved areas which encircled my neck and wrists were padded with soft leather and felt very comfortable, the bar as a whole was heavy and I had difficulty holding it steady over my shoulders. But Master had thought about that. He lowered chains from the ceiling and clipped them to hooks on the bar's upper edge. Then the chains rose again until I was standing upright, balanced firmly on my high heels and my head upright above the ring which held my neck. "How does that feel?" "Lovely," I said softly. "And so _right_ ..." I meant that being held helplessly, in a metal cage from which there was no possible escape, naked and exposed to every sadistic whim of a cruel master, was the perfect experience, the way above all I longed to be. Much as I adored being locked into my Master's whipping-frame, I had to admit this new device was superior in one respect: it held me firmly without the need for uprights to get in the way of whatever my Master planned to do to me. He was standing behind me now, and his hands reached for my breasts, squeezing them and pinching the nipples before moving down to stroke my stomach and explore between my open legs. Then I could feel him stroking and lightly slapping my bottom. He grabbed my buttocks firmly and pulled them apart, exposing my anus. I whimpered with pleasure. Suddenly he was kneeling behind me and his tongue began to explore my arse-hole. I thanked him incoherently and begged him not to stop, but the beautiful reaming did not last long. Master was standing again now, and suddenly I felt the middle finger of one hand entering my lubricated anus as his other hand gripped my bottom painfully. "Please don't hurt me," I said in a breathy, little-girl voice as his finger forced its way further up my arse. Of course I didn't mean it and he knew it. There was nothing I wanted more than to be subjected to whatever pain my Master had in store for me. But he had taught me that it stimulates a lover if his victim plays the game of resisting the feelings he is giving her - at least until they reach a pitch when she can pretend no longer and must accept them eagerly, her pleas for mercy turning into entreaties for more. The finger withdrew and I heard my Master moving away behind me. There was the sexy clink of chains and metal. Then he was kneeling in front of me: obediently I moved my feet apart as he fixed a stretcher bar to my ankles. Satisfied, he stood up. "A little decoration next, I think," he said. "Oh yes, please, Master," I said. "Make me beautiful - so that I please you. And your guests," I added after a moment, dreaming of being the lust-object of a carefully selected group of expert sadists. "It will hurt, of course." I swallowed, then said, "I am your slave, Master. Please do to me whatever you wish." He moved away for a moment; then returned, as I had hoped, with a pair of nipple-clamps. My nipples were already yearning for their steel embrace, but he teased them into even harder erection before fitting the little discs over them. He twisted them at first to only a low setting, just enough to keep them in place; then stood behind me, his hands reaching round me as he delicately adjusted the mechanism. Gradually the exquisite pain increased as the control knobs on the little discs clicked round, till it was almost unbearable. My mind was flooded with the sensation, my experienced pleasure-centre blending it gloriously with my ever-present sexual lust, channelling it back to my body, making my breasts quiver with desire and my pussy drip love-juice. I knew these exquisite little instruments of torture well: my Master had used them often, sometimes instructing me to wear them under my dress or blouse when we were out together - the only underwear he ever permitted on our expeditions round Tokyo. There was more pain to come: perhaps two more clicks, I calculated. There was no way I could wear the clamps secretly in public like _that_: at the highest setting it was impossible not to scream out loud with ecstatic agony. It was part of my Master's sadism to withhold that final level of bliss. How I adored him and his exquisite cruelty![21] "Very nice," I heard him say. "You like them?" Of course I did! But I could not reply: I could only look at him imploringly. "Now a little treat for your pretty pussy," he said. What would it be? One of the steel-jawed clips which bit lusciously into my clit? No, he was bringing a big egg-shaped vibrator. It slid easily into my wet cunt, and I gripped it tight with my muscles. It began to send delicious spasms of pleasure to mingle with the agony radiating from my breasts. "And I think your arse is feeling a little neglected, don't you?" I couldn't see what he was doing, but I didn't need to: eight or ten anal beads on a string were being inserted one by one into my narrow passage, still throbbing and itching from the deep penetration of his finger. The beads were old friends too: on Master's instructions I had worn them at sex-parties, giving a chosen partner a lovely surprise as I coyly asked him to withdraw them one by one before replacing them with his own erect cock. In a way I was always sorry to feel them go: the heavy steel balls loose inside each round shell vibrated delightfully at my every movement. I wriggled my bottom slightly: yes, the magic feeling was there, and as enjoyable as ever. "Now, let me look at you." My Master walked slowly round my tense body. "Yes, very nice. Very tempting. I think you deserve a little more ..." His fingers reached round from behind again, and increased the agony of the nipple-clamps by just one click. I stammered out my thanks. I already felt almost at the height of heavenly pain-pleasure. But I knew there was more to come - much more. "Right, now it's time for some real hard work, don't you think?" my Master was saying. Lost somewhere in the early stages of private bliss, I was hardly paying attention and was on the point of agreeing happily to whatever he had in mind. But then I came part of the way back to earth. I remembered my training, and how delightfully stimulating it is for a man to hear his victim begging piteously for mercy. It was time to show my new acting skills. "Oh, _please_ don't hurt me!" I begged, looking at my Master, my eyes sparkling with tears. "Ah, you are _so_ cruel to me! What have I done to deserve being tortured like this?" Of course I knew very well that when my time at last came to be handed over defenceless to specialists in sadism in search of an evening's refined pleasure, to praise their cruelty would be a great compliment, driving us all to ever greater heights of exquisite mutual pleasure - and what I had done to merit such happiness would indeed be a question I could not answer. Unless of course the Japanese female qualities of sincerity, hard work and submission to the wishes of others deserved to be rewarded so beautifully. My Master was dangling something in front of my eyes. It was a long cat-o'-nine-tails - really a cat of _many_ tails for there were far more than nine, each exquisite strand a couple of metres of thin whipcord decorated along its length with hard cruel knots. It rustled sexily as my Master shook it. How I wanted to feel it swish round my trembling hips and breasts and thighs! "Oh, _please_!" I begged. "Don't! don't! It hurts _so_ much! I can't bear it!" "But you'll have to, won't you?" said my Master with a cruel smile. He took up position on my left and, just to start with, teased me by letting the beautiful lashes tickle me lightly. Then at last they embraced me with all his strength behind them, twisting round my waist and arse several times, every tight little knot stinging my skin, before at last falling to the floor, their power exhausted. Again. And again. I was shaken from side to side, swaying in the steel bar which held me steady. The heavy metal balls hidden in my beads tickled and pleasured my anal passage; the humming of the vibrator in my cunt and the agony of the nipple-clamps all added to a continuum of extreme sensation. There was no point any more in pretending to resist: as each glorious kiss of the whip raised me closer to total bliss I opened my mouth and screamed in joy and happiness. At last it stopped, leaving me at the very gates of heaven. I begged and implored, but part of my Master's sadism is knowing how to torment me by stopping when I most want more. "Good, slave; very good," I heard him say. "A little reward for you." His fingers again reached for my breasts and prepared to adjust my nipple-clamps. At the last second I prepared myself for what I knew was about to happen. As he twisted the little knobs the final click, tiny needles hidden within the mechanism plunged white-hot into my nipples. I abandoned all restraint and surrendered to the ultimate flow of blissful agony. I screamed and screamed as the gates of heaven opened at last and welcomed me to the ecstasy of total, endless orgasm. == When I at last came back to earth, I was lying on my back. The thick carpet was comfortable and tickled my well-whipped bottom and thighs agreeably. My lovely nipple-clamps had been removed and so had the vibrator in my cunt, but my anal beads were still where they belonged and my neck and wrists were still locked into the steel bar. My Master was sitting in a chair watching me with a kindly smile on his face. "How do you feel, darling?" he asked. I noticed he did not call me "slave": that must mean our training session was finished. "Wonderful," I said, wriggling my bottom against the carpet and enjoying both the stimulation of my tender skin and the vibration of the balls in my anal passage. "The best I've ever had ... oh, I don't know how to describe it ..." "Try." "Well, like being fucked non-stop by the most expert lover ... brought to endless glorious orgasm ..." "Good." "May I have something to drink?" "Of course." He brought me a can of the slightly salty water that athletes use to replace minerals lost in sweat, raised me carefully to a sitting position and held the can to my lips as I swallowed. "Can you stand up for a while?" he asked as I finished. "I think so. If you help me." He held me below the steel bar and under my knees, and gradually I found myself on my feet again. When I was steady on my heels he left me for a moment; then returned with something I recognised. "I'd like to see you in a corset now." "Oh, _yes_! Yes please! Especially that one." It was indeed one of my favourites. It was in shiny red material but buried inside the fabric were steel bands specially shaped to squeeze and bind me into an impossibly perfect shape: it created a tiny waist and, although of course it left my breasts and arse uncovered, the contrast with my waist somehow made them bigger and firmer. My Master sometimes dressed me in it for parties: I loved wearing it and especially loved being whipped in it. Was that what he had in mind for me? The cruel steel hoops hidden in the soft material took my breath away as he fitted them round me, then tightened the bonds further and further till at last the corset met fully round my waist and the hoops clicked shut. Only my Master's special key could open them again. He wheeled up a mirror so that I could see myself. "I don't think those shoes really go with that corset, do you? Wait here and I'll fetch something else." Well, obviously I wasn't going anywhere. He made for the door, hesitated, saw the trouble I was having keeping my steel bar steady over my shoulders, and came back to attach the dangling chains again. Then he left me alone, with nothing to do but enjoy my own beauty in the big mirror. Oh, if I were a man, how I would want to whip and torture that girl and then enter her in all her holes! And how lovely it is to be a girl, designed by the Gods to be beautiful and desirable to men so that, just by taking care to look her best, she can tease and provoke them till they do such heavenly things to her! My Master returned. He was carrying a pair of knee-high boots in red leather. As always his taste was perfect. I had worn the boots with this corset before, and remembered the effect they had - both on my lovers and on me. He knelt in front of me and gently removed my black stilettos. Then he eased my feet into the red boots: the heels were a centimetre higher and the soft leather enclosing my feet was delightfully tight - not uncomfortable, just giving a delicious sensation of helpless imprisonment. He pulled the long laces firmly round the rows of hooks and tied them. I danced a little and admired myself again in the mirror. My Master kindly wheeled up a second mirror and moved it to and fro behind me so that I could enjoy the rear view as well. How perfect my figure was with its artificially tiny waist; how pretty my little feet were perched on the high heels of their constricting boots; how proudly my breasts and arse stood out, begging for the whip! "Oh, _please_ torture me again!" I begged. "I want it _so_ much!" "What would you like?" he said teasingly. "May I really choose?" "No, but just tell me what you'd choose if I let you." "Oh ... to be whipped ... caned - you haven't done that to me yet today! Lovely candle-wax torture. Chained up ... suspended ... and then taken in all three holes by an endless series of men. Drenched in cum. And all the while wearing this heavenly corset and these lovely tight boots. And my nipple-clamps, of course - at the highest setting! Can I have all that?" "No - but I'll try and arrange it for you at the next party I take you to. You can be looking forward to it." "Oh, thank you! You are so good to me!" "But now I want you lying down again. I told you I had some new equipment, and there's more to come." So he disconnected me from the ceiling chains and I lay down carefully on the carpet again, pleasantly frightened as I tried to imagine what was to happen to me next. Suddenly I felt the area of carpet I was lying on rising till it was about eighty centimetres above the rest of the floor and I was exposed on a platform. There were clearly anchor-points for bondage ropes and chains along the sides of the platform: my Master tied ropes to my thighs and ankles and fixed them firmly so that I could hardly move my legs and hips. "Ready?" he asked, smiling down at me. "Oh, yes! For anything!" From beyond my feet I could hear something heavy being wheeled up over the carpet. Master came round and lifted my shoulders a little so that I could see what it was. A long shaft with a huge dildo at its tip was pointing towards me from a metal box. "Can you see what that is for?" "Yes!" "Are you prepared to be fucked by a monster like that? Raped endlessly by a machine?" "Yes! _Yes_!" He laid me back on the floor again. He disconnected the dildo from its drive shaft and brought it for me to examine. It was really big: made of firm but slightly flexible plastic. I kissed it lovingly while he held it for me. As he turned it before my eyes I saw that there was a row of firm ridges on its upper surface. How beautiful they would feel rubbing endlessly against the root of my clit![22] Master moved away again and I heard the dildo click back into place on the machine's shaft. Suddenly I felt its tip delicately touching the lips of my pussy. It probed, entered, and was finally deep inside me. Even though it was motionless I felt my juices gathering and the first stages of orgasm building. "Now, this machine does two things at once," my Master explained. "It fucks you, of course. At different depths and speeds." He demonstrated. "And it gives you electric stimulation. At different frequencies and strengths." He demonstrated. "Do you like it?" "I adore it!" "And of course it never, _ever_, gets tired. Do you think you'll get tired?" "No! Never, _never_!" "Is that a promise?" "Of course!" My Master may not have realised it - of course he wasn't brought up in Japan - but the thought of being helplessly bound into a fucking-machine or sci-fi monster that never, _ever_ gets tired is a favourite masturbation fantasy of young girls, often described in sex _manga_ or cartoon magazines meant for teenagers. I had sent myself to sleep so often dreaming of it. And now it was at last to come true! "So I shall set both the fucking and the electric shocks to 'random'. I think that will be fun for us both, don't you? For you, of course, and for me to watch." He pressed some buttons, and at once my wonderful machine-monster-lover began to take me to heaven. In my fantasy the metal hoops of my corset, the steel bar holding my neck and wrists, and the tight bonds of my boots became the tentacles of the monster as he gripped me and forced me to submit to his sexual probing. But only for a while. All too soon the machine reduced its motions to little more than a standby humming. "That was very pretty," my Master was saying. "I think we can improve on it, though." Suddenly I felt sharp clips being attached to my nipples. I was able to look downwards just enough to see that there were wires attached to the metal jaws biting into my breasts. Then another clip was attached to my erect clitoris, just above the glorious dildo resting motionless in my cunt. I hoped there were wires attached to that one too - surely there must be! "A little demonstration," said my Master. Random bursts of electrical stimulation tormented me, making me shiver with the thrill of it. I screamed helplessly, joyously. "Being helpless is part of the fun, don't you think?" Suddenly his hands were over my face, forcing a ball gag into my mouth and fixing the leather straps round the back of my head. And then everything went dark as he completed his arrangements by tying a mask over my eyes. The penetration and stimulation of the dildo began again, but only lightly. Delicate electric shocks teased my clit and nipples. But surely the machine could do more than that? I tried to beg my Master to increase the level of my pleasure, but of course I could say nothing from behind my gag. I became aware that he was speaking again. "I'll leave you to enjoy yourself. I'm off now, but on Monday morning I'll look in to see how you're getting on." "Wh-a-at?!" I wanted to say, but couldn't. Then the machine, and the electric shocks, began their random patterns of stimulation again at full strength. "Have a nice weekend," he said. I could just hear the door click shut behind him, abandoning me to the tireless embrace of my fantasy lover. No, of course I didn't leave Chiyoko all on her own to enjoy her fucking-machine from Friday evening to Monday morning. It would have been fun, but too dangerous. I looked in on her discreetly from time to time, and of course I had the video camera on. Every few hours, without her knowing it, I gently increased the level of the electric shocks to her breasts and clitoris. But _she_ thought she had been abandoned - and adored it. When I freed her at last on the Monday morning after sixty hours of non-stop fucking she said, "Oh, _must_ you? It wasn't _nearly_ long enough!" Then she went and had a shower, and after that - still charmingly nude - ate a huge Japanese-style breakfast which I ordered up from a local restaurant. She finished with a mouthful of cum which I was happy to provide, kissed me good-bye, pulled on some clothes - nothing but a cropped top, micro-skirt and heels - and danced off to her studio to spend the day being fucked on camera. Japanese girls are amazing. FOOTNOTES [21] If you have read Megumi's book _All I Ever Wanted_, you may recognise these delightful little instruments: they are Chinese, and were a wedding-present to Megumi from her great friend Matsumoto-san. She has let me borrow them on a sort of permanent loan, so that the girls I fuck can enjoy them too - so long as she can have them back whenever she is planning a special evening with a lover and wants to wear them herself. Fucking a girl decorated with these clever devices is a lovely experience. The trick is to wait till she is on the brink of her climax before suddenly giving her the last "click", as Chiyoko calls it. The resulting orgasmic explosion is amazing, and afterwards it is very gratifying to have a delicious nude girl on her knees in front of you thanking you for all you did to her and imploring you to do it to her again. - B W [22] Why don't real cocks have that feature? It would be so nice. Any man whose cock was shaped like that would have an endless line of girls outside his door, begging to be fucked! [Next in Part 14: Chapter XIV: Ayako: The Holiday] For complete series so far see /files/Authors/Bob_Williams