UNFINISHED AFFAIRS 14 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 14 CHAPTER XIV The Holiday When I met Ayako - she was at the same school as Natsuko, but all this happened several years later and they didn't know each other - I had just had a stroke of luck with my writing. So I decided to give her a real treat and invited her, for our first proper date, to spend a weekend with me at a rather special resort I had just learned about. When she heard I planned to write about our activities there, she said she'd like to do that herself. So here is an extended piece from the girl's point of view. I helped her, of course, but it is very much her own work. I stood naked in front of the big mirror fixed to the wall of the dressing-room. I was holding the little folded card which had been discreetly placed on the dressing-table, and was reading, once again, the words printed on it: Guests are respectfully reminded that clothing is optional in all areas of the resort I had read it several times already since Bob and I had checked into our suite that afternoon - in fact I knew it by heart - but I enjoyed reading it again. It felt good. I looked at myself in the mirror. I was quite pleased with what I saw, and hoped Bob would like it too. I wasn't often able to examine myself full-length and fully nude. I had quite a nice figure, I thought, with a slim waist emphasising the swell of my breasts and arse. To be honest, they needed emphasising. My breasts were firm but still quite small - at sixteen I supposed that was only natural. At least the nipples were rock-hard and wonderfully sensitive. They hadn't always been - that is to say, they were hard and felt good whenever I was masturbating or being pleasured by someone, but not otherwise. Then a few months ago I had persuaded a lover - a foreigner with whom I had special English classes - to pay for me to have them pierced. Now they were decorated with the prettiest silver rings! I had read about nipple-piercing in girls' magazines and had been dreaming about it for ages. The people in the magazines said it was very important to have the rings set as far back in the nipples as possible: that would keep them permanently hard and erect, and leave the front of the nipples available for "other attachments". I wasn't quite sure what that meant, but of course I had taken the experts' advice. The piercer had recommended a pair of rings with discreetly serrated edges which tickled delightfully as I twisted them round and round in their little holes. I read the notice again. It still gave me a lovely shivery feeling to know I was permitted to be as nude as I liked, but it didn't help me decide what to wear for our first dinner at the resort. Of course the simple answer would be to wear nothing, as recommended. In the mirror I took my eyes off my pierced breasts and critically examined my pussy. I picked up the nail-scissors and tweezers and carefully removed a few stray hairs; then slightly trimmed the springy curls which I had trained into a pretty vee, an arrow pointing downwards to where I most wanted to be petted and pleasured. I liked to keep my cunt completely shaven - my lovers said they enjoyed the way it made me look and feel even younger than I actually was - but I don't like the growing fashion for shaving or waxing all a girl's pussy hair. I think it makes the skin raw and red just where she most wants it to be soft and delicate. Yes, Bob would be pleased if I decided to wear nothing, I thought. He would enjoy entering the public rooms of the resort with an excited nude girl on his arm, showing her off to the other guests. And how _I_ would enjoy showing myself off, too! But this was the first evening of our holiday and it would be nice for both of us to build up our desire just a little longer. Later, after dinner, we would make love properly for the first time. So far we had been on just one date: I had let him play with my bare breasts, of course (he had _loved_ my rings!) and I had stroked his cock through his trousers, but nothing more. We both knew what this holiday was for: sex, sex and more sex, in private and in public. _Especially_ in public - the nicest kind of sex there is. I opened the closets which I had filled with my things only an hour before. I had brought a big selection of outfits and equipment which my other lovers had enjoyed. Mostly they had bought them for me so they could dress me up the way they liked to see me. That way I could be sure I looked good in them. One drawer held ropes of different types and thicknesses. I was looking forward to showing them to Bob and inviting him to use them on me. Would _he_ enjoy being tied up too, and letting me tease him beyond endurance? That would be fun! I already knew what I most liked my lovers to do to me - but I still had so much to learn about the strange things men liked to have girls do to them. Time was getting on. If I was to wear anything, I had better decide quickly. Nothing on top, of course: I was so proud of my beautifully decorated breasts, and couldn't bear the thought of hiding them. I pulled a selection of bikini panties out of a drawer. One was in glistening white satin: yes, that would be nice. Many guests, I had read in the brochure, came to this resort on honeymoon. Of course we weren't married - even if I were old enough, why would I want to be when the world was full of men I hadn't tried out yet? - but it would be fun to pretend. I fitted the little triangle over my pubic hair, ran the narrow band tightly up the crack in my arse so that it could hardly be seen, and tied the little bows neatly on each hip. The ends were long and each had a little silver weight at the tip, making them dangle temptingly down my thighs. I flirted with myself in the mirror. Yes, he would like that, and so would I. I hunted through the drawer with the ropes, and found a broad collar of soft white leather. I fitted it snugly round my neck, and closed it with a steel padlock. I left the key in the drawer. Finally, shoes. One of the first things I learnt about sex with _gaijin_ or western men is that they are crazy about high-heeled shoes. Because in Japan we are accustomed to taking our shoes off indoors, we don't associate sex with shoes the way westerners seem to do. But one of my foreign lovers used to say there was nothing, absolutely nothing in the world, so beautiful as a young naked Japanese girl teetering shyly on tall, narrow heels. So I always wear them for my lovers, especially when I'm nude. Or nearly nude, as I was now - for the moment at least. I had exactly the right pair to please Bob: white strappy shoes with thongs to tie round my ankles and slender spike heels fully thirteen centimetres high. They were a little too small for me, which gave me an exciting feeling of slight constriction, and the height made them difficult to walk in - but I thought Bob would be glad to support me.[23] Should I clip a dog-lead into the ring in my collar? Or even give Bob a whip to carry? Better not. I didn't yet know whether he had a taste for sadism. Of course I _hoped_ he had already discovered how Japanese girls adore being whipped, but he might still need careful persuasion. I brushed my hair, scented my breasts and pussy discreetly, gave my nipples an extra tweak to make them stand up as erect as they could, and entered the bedroom. "You _do_ look beautiful!" said Bob. He was waiting for me bare-chested, wearing just a pair of jeans and slip-on shoes. "D'you think so?" I asked, twirling round in front of him as well as I could in my treacherous heels. Facing him again, I reached a hand behind me and ran the tips of my fingers down my arse, hiding the string of the panties even more deeply. It's nice to look nude when seen from the back. "Shall we go, then?" "I'm ready!" I said gaily. It was still quite light and the air was warm, with just occasional little breezes kissing my nakedness in unpredictable ways and making me tremble with pleasure. The stone paths leading to the resort restaurant were uneven and difficult for me to negotiate in my heels. I squealed and hung on to Bob, who took me by the waist. After a while I stopped and turned towards him. "Oh, it's so lovely here!" I said. He held me with one arm while his other hand played with my breasts, then moved downwards and stroked my naked bottom. I stood on tiptoes, put my arms round his neck and kissed him. "Thank you so much for bringing me here," I said as our mouths parted again. A western couple also heading for the restaurant passed us, smiling at our happiness. I looked after them: the girl was tall, long-legged, elegant, long hair hanging down her back and - apart from her heels - completely naked. Bob too was enjoying the lovely sight she presented. I brought his attention back to me, wriggling my breasts and pussy against him. "Wouldn't _you_ like to be like that?" he asked me. "Er, nude, you mean? Completely nude?" "Yes, completely nude. It's allowed here, you know." "Well, yes - I mean no - yes, of course, but - maybe later." I pulled myself together and stopped stammering. "After dinner. Perhaps. When we've had something to eat." His hands were still holding me, fondling me. I turned round in his arms so they could play with my breasts and stroke my pussy through the scrap of satin which just covered it. "I know what _I_ want to eat," he said. "Your pretty pussy." "You mean ..." "Haven't you ever had your pussy licked and sucked ... eaten?" I turned round again to face him, and looked up at him wide-eyed and serious. "Would you enjoy doing that?" Of course he would enjoy doing that. Every man does, and every girl loves having it done to her, dripping her thick juices into his mouth. "Surely you've had that done to you often enough?" "Well, yes, actually," I said, lowering my eyes and blushing. "And you've thanked the man by doing to same to him in return?" I looked up at him beseechingly, then looked away again. The problem was I hadn't yet decided how to present myself to Bob - how he wanted to see me. Of course this resort was devoted to sexual pleasure and in accepting his invitation I was telling him I was ready for a weekend of non-stop fucking and nudity. But was I an experienced young slut teasing her latest man, or an innocent schoolgirl trembling on the verge of sexuality and ready to be taught what it meant? Which did he want me to be? "Don't you think it was rather naughty of you?" he was continuing. "Pretending like that. Being such a little tease." "Yes," I said shyly. "Yes - _sensei_," I added daringly. "Don't you deserve to be punished for it? Severely punished?" I could not speak. My heart suddenly began to pound and I was breathing fast: he must have felt it. At last I had the answer to the question I had asked myself in the dressing-room: yes, he _did_ like whipping girls! My bottom tingled, as if it was already feeling the loving kisses of the lash. All I had to do was let him know how much I wanted him to whip me, while letting him think he was teaching a little beginner how to enjoy it. He was waiting for my answer. I leant my head against his bare chest, swallowed a couple of times, and whispered, "Yes. Yes, please ..." I felt his fingernails scratch gently against the skin of my bottom, already trembling with excitement and longing. "Have you been punished before?" "Sometimes," I whispered, looking up at his face. "At school ..." It was true so far as it went. He bent his head and kissed me tenderly. "I'll teach you," he said softly. "You'll love it." "I'm sure I shall ... if _you_ do it to me. Er ... whatever it is," I added, looking up at him innocently. He kissed me once more, and we started walking again. "It's so lovely, being here with you," I continued. "I want so much to be yours. To do all the things you want me to do ... all the things I've never done." Well, that wasn't _quite_ saying I'd never been whipped, but perhaps he would think that was what I meant. "I have so much to learn," I added shyly. "Why don't you start by taking off your panties and being nude for me?" His fingers, as we walked, were already playing with the dangling ties. The little metal tips were clashing prettily together. "Not _just_ yet, darling," I said. "But you're _almost_ nude already." "Yes, but ... there's such a difference between being almost nude and - you know - fully ... for the first time." "But soon?" "Soon." "All right." "Please hold me close. These shoes are difficult to walk in." "They must be. Do they hurt?" "A bit. But I like to wear shoes that fit tightly. They feel exciting - and make my feet look small and nice, don't you think?" "I do," he said. "Later I'll kiss them and make them better." "Thank you. I'd enjoy that. I suppose the heels are a _bit_ high, but I like them like that." "So do I. I used to know a girl who always wore shoes with one heel just slightly higher than the other." "Oh yes?" "It makes a girl's bottom wiggle nicely when she walks." "What a lovely idea!" When we reached the outdoor restaurant we were quickly made welcome. Pretty miniskirted waitresses showed us to a table for two near the little dance area. I examined their costumes with interest: they were based on the traditional waitress uniform, black with white frilly edges and a short skirt held out wide by stiff petticoats; but the upper part was cut very low to expose their pretty breasts. I must get a uniform like that to wear at parties, I thought. A combo was playing softly. Beyond the dance-floor there seemed to be some large couches set out. At least, I hoped that was what they were; it was getting dark and they were outside the area covered by the lighting. We ordered our food: something light and a soft drink for me. We were sitting at right-angles to each other and I put my hand lightly on Bob's thigh. With the fingers of the other I absently fiddled with one of my rings, enjoying the tickling sensation as it twisted round in the little channel carved out of my nipple. "Tell me about yourself," said Bob. "What do you want to know?" "Everything. Everything about your sexual experiences, anyway." "It's so difficult to know where to start ..." "D'you remember," he said, "when I asked you for a date and you said you couldn't that night because you were working?" "Yes." "Was it true? Or did you just have a date with another man?" "Of _course_ it was true!" "So begin there. Where were you working?" "I was working ... working at a ... a strip-club." I looked up at him. I could feel the blush spreading from my face and neck all the way down my breasts. "You don't mind, do you?" I asked anxiously. "Mind? Of _course_ not! Why should I mind? I'm delighted!" "Well, some men ..." "I wish I could see you strip," he said softly, smiling gently at me. "I'm sure you do it beautifully ... all the men must enjoy watching you!" "Well, I hope so. But the main thing is, _I_ enjoy it. I just _love_ doing it for them." "And how did you get the job?" "Well, it's a long story." "We've got plenty of time, I guess." I thought for a moment, deciding where to start. "I suppose it began early one evening in Shibuya. I was with a group of friends ... walking across the plaza outside the station. In our school uniforms. And a man approached me. Asked me very politely if I'd like to earn little pocket-money." "Aha!" said Bob. "I thought as much. And did you say yes?" "Some of my friends had told me that could happen. Probably would. They'd been approached already, you see. And they'd told me the sort of thing they were asked to do." "Posing nude? Sex videos? That sort of thing?" "Yes. It sounded fun - and an easy way of earning a little money. In fact I was feeling a little sad because my friends had been asked and no one had asked me yet. So I pretended to be surprised, and a bit coy, but I took his business card when he offered it me and agreed to visit his office the next day." "And in his office he photographed you - in your uniform, and then out of your uniform ..." "That's right!" I said excitedly, "first topless, then just in panties. And then he asked me - oh, so gently and politely - if I'd mind taking them off and being fully nude for the camera ..." "And you did?" "Well, I was a bit shocked at first. No, not shocked really, just shy. But he explained the pictures would be very artistic. And then I thought, well why not? So I did! Oh, it felt _so_ good!" "Then shots of making love?" "Yes! That was a bit later though ... such a kind gentle man helped me undress, and stroked and petted me ... of course I liked the money they gave me, but most of all I liked doing it. _Especially_ doing it for the camera. It gave me such a lovely feeling!" "And when did you start making videos?" "Quite soon. The people at the company asked how I felt about it. And I said I thought it would be nice. Of course I wasn't a virgin." "No?" "No. There had been sort of petting sessions in the school gym after classes: just girls at first, then some boys joined in ... to start with we just stroked their cocks, then we learned to kiss and suck them. Their cocks, I mean. And one day a boy entered me ... it felt strange at first, and not very nice, but thinking about it in bed afterwards ... oh, it was _so_ lovely! And then there was a teacher ..." "Lucky teacher!" said Bob. "Oh, I think I was the lucky one. He taught me _so_ much ..." "Did he beat you?" I felt myself blushing all over again. I looked up at his face. "Yes ... yes ... I told you he taught me a lot ..." "And you enjoyed it?" "Oh, I _did_! He was so gentle at first, and then showed me how it can take a girl to heaven and hold her there ..." There was a pause. I hoped Bob was dreaming of doing that to me. "Anyway," he said at last, "you made some sex videos." "Yes. I enjoyed that. And I was paid more than for the posing sessions." "So you should be. Videos of really young girls being fucked sell at high prices. And they're much better." "Better?" "Better than videos of busty eighteen- or twenty-year-old AV stars dressed up in school uniforms, I mean." I giggled. "Do they do that?" "Of course they do. But girls like you ... Anyway, how did you get from there to the strip-club?" "Well, one of the men who worked at the studio asked me if I'd ever stripped and been nude in public. And I said no I hadn't - only in front of the camera. But then - I couldn't stop myself saying it - I said it sounded wonderfully exciting and I'd love to try. So he said he'd help me and he arranged for me to dress up in sexy clothes from the studio's wardrobe and he and one of the older girls taught me how to undress the way men like to see a girl do it." "_I'd_ like to see you undress," said Bob. "Wouldn't you like to take those panties off for me?" I stroked his thigh under the table. "In a moment I will," I said. "I promise. But there's something I want to tell you about stripping. How it feels for a girl, I mean." "Yes?" "You see, they call it strip-tease, and the girl is supposed to tease the men by making them wait till they're allowed to see her nude. But you see, the one who is really being teased is the girl. Do you understand that?" "I think so ..." "When I'm up on the stage, with all those men wanting me and longing for me to be nude, it's _so_ exciting! And I desperately, _desperately_ want to be nude - oh, so much! And when at last I am, and I've taken off even my little panties, it's the greatest thrill! But you see, the real fun is the teasing. Not just teasing them, though I enjoy doing that, but teasing myself. Making myself wait for the thing I most want in all the world." "And that is?" "You know what it is!" "But I want to hear you tell me." "Being nude. In public. Being desired and beautiful and wanted. But above all being nude. To be nude in front of an audience is the loveliest thing a girl can experience. Well, one of the loveliest things ... And that's why I adore teasing myself, making myself wait for it. Like tonight." "And are you enjoying teasing me, too? Making me wait, I mean?" "Oh, yes!" I said, with a smile. He stood up, and held out both hands to me. "Let's dance," he said. I stood up too, and joined him. The people at the nearby tables looked at me appreciatively. "Wouldn't you like to be nude now? Strip for me, and dance nude for me?" "In a moment," I said shyly. He didn't argue. I think he knew I couldn't bear to wait much longer. The music being played was slow, and we were alone in the dancing area. We didn't really dance - just held each other close and swayed in time with the rhythm. After a few minutes I turned round in his arms and leant back against him, slowly rubbing my bottom against his erection while his hands stroked my naked breasts and stomach and tickled me between my thighs. It was time at last. "Let me dance alone," I whispered. I took the centre of the dance area, where the spotlights were concentrated. He moved to the side and watched me. _Everyone_ was watching me, I now realised. I danced for them, turning as I showed myself off from all sides, stroking myself as his hands had done. I thought of the lucky girl who was taking my place at the strip-club tonight. Perhaps she too was now wearing only her tiny panties, smiling demurely while her excited admirers shouted "Off! Off! Take it off!" and her own longing secretly whispered the same to her with even greater urgency. The audience here would not do that - they were too well-behaved - but the air was full of the same intoxicating aroma of lust which at my strip-club never failed to make me helpless with desire. I had first experienced it when boys joined us in our innocent petting sessions in the school gym, and had sought it everywhere ever since. My hands were playing with the side-ties of my panties. It felt just as it always did when I stripped at my club: as if my hands were moving of their own volition, and there was nothing I could do to stop them - not that I wanted to. Slowly, slowly I pulled the little bows apart as the audience watched spellbound. It is one of the loveliest moments when a girl is stripping: that tiny second just before she gives way to her own overwhelming desire to be completely naked before her audience. At last I felt the bows give way and the threads between the cheeks of my bottom tickle me as they slid downwards. I turned my back to the audience and let them enjoy the rear view of my perfect nudity. Then to face them again, my hands still holding the panties across my pussy. "Oh, yes - oh _yes_!" I said, in a voice only those near me could hear: "yes, I want to be nude for you - oh, _so_ much!" And for myself, and for myself! I added silently. I let go of the panties and let them dangle from the fingers of my right hand. In the strip-club I like to toss them into the audience with a happy smile, telling them I never want to wear them again. I decided instead to throw them to one side, towards where Bob was standing. I was fully nude at last! Offering myself to the lust of my adoring and adored audience! I was almost faint with happiness and desire. How I wished they could _all_ have me - the women too, if they liked - but tonight was to be my first time with Bob. I turned towards him, holding out my arms to him, and as he came towards me saw that he too was naked. He had discreetly removed his trousers while the audience were watching me strip, and now his glorious erection was standing up proudly. I had never seen it before: only stroked it through his clothes. For a moment we stood side-by-side, our arms round each other, while the audience applauded. But then my hands, again acting as if independent of my will, reached out for his cock and stroked it tenderly. I sank to my knees and began to kiss it: not so much wanting to suck and swallow it (that would come later) as to love and worship it. "Get them a bed!" called out a man in the audience. But a couple of waitresses were already wheeling a couch from the back of the dance area into the pool of light. Quickly we climbed onto it, and knelt facing each other. My hands were still stroking his beautiful cock. "Whatever else you do, darling," I said in a small voice, "promise to finish in my mouth." "You like that?" he said teasingly. "I _adore_ it!" I said firmly. "Promise?" "I promise." "But do all the other things to me first. All the things you've been wanting to do to me! How would you like to start?" At Bob's urgent request I began by sitting on his face, looking out over his head towards the audience as his clever tongue dug deep into my dripping pussy, left it to swirl deliciously round my clit, and returned to slurp up more of my juices. His hands were tight round my waist and mine were caressing my own breasts - squeezing them, lifting them to show them off to the people at the front tables, twisting my rings, pinching my nipples for added pleasure. Soon he would be doing that for me, I hoped. After a while he came up for air, lifting me off his face. I slithered quickly backwards, my wet pussy leaving a damp track along his chest. At first I just stroked the underside of his cock with my cunt, but then I could wait no longer and helped his enormous erection deep, deep into me, impaling myself on it. I like taking control of a man, or pretending to - though it's not something I normally have a chance to do when fucking on stage. The customers at the strip-club who join me on the cat-walk once I am fully nude are masterful and want to show they are in command. About twenty deep strokes later I fell forward onto his chest and began kissing and stroking his face. "Careful, darling," he whispered, "you'll make me come before I'm ready." "Remember your promise!" "Yes - but there are other things I want to do to you first!" Reluctantly I released his cock and moved slightly forward. His hands grabbed my breasts and squeezed them hard. "Oh, yes, hurt me - hurt me more!" I begged. He pinched my nipples cruelly, making me gasp with pleasure. Then I began to bury his face in my breasts, trying to smother him while he licked and bit them, his strong hands now seizing and digging into the firm flesh of my bottom. I lifted my chest a little and started whipping his face with my breasts while he tried to grab my erect nipples with his teeth. At last I felt myself lifted. "The audience can't see properly," he said. "Let's stand up a bit." We moved the bed up-stage a little, and I stood with my back to the audience, leaning forward onto the cushions, my legs firm and stretched by my high heels. Bob stood beside me, stroking my bottom, spanking it, slapping it, slipping his fingers into my cunt, playing with my little pink rosebud, while I whimpered and squealed with joy and begged for more. Then he turned me slightly to one side so as not to block the audience's view and prepared to enter my cunt from behind. My juices had hardly stopped flowing since the moment I had removed my panties and displayed my perfect nudity, emphasised by my high heels and collar, and he entered me in a single slow movement. For a while he was still, just the throbbing of his cock exciting me; then he began to slide in and out while I screamed and implored him not to stop. Even in my preoccupation with my pleasure I could tell that the audience was excited and pleased with my performance: one thing I had learned from the strip-club was the ability to watch myself on stage, so to speak, even in the midst of the most intense experience. What was he going to do next? He had said there were lots of things he wanted to do to me before finishing in my mouth ... a few minutes ago his finger had been tickling and probing my little rosebud. A wild hope entered my mind - would he? I had been arse-fucked only a few times, and never by anything as big as Bob's erect cock. It would hurt, but it would be wonderful ... especially with an enthusiastic and sophisticated audience to enjoy it with me. And he did! He slowly pulled out of my cunt, moved the tip of his cock carefully up my crack, and pulled my cheeks firmly apart with his strong hands. My rosebud fluttered and tickled, uncertain whether to open or close. "Open, you silly thing!" I silently told it. "Open and receive him! Then close - grip him as tight as you can. He will _love_ that, and so will you." At last I felt the tip of his cock pressing against me, pushing irresistibly into my narrow hole - oh, how wonderful it was! How I wanted to surrender myself to his loving lust, to be pierced by his cock for ever! I could hear myself screaming with desire for him, for it, for my master. I could tell that our audience were gathering closely round us, those furthest from the dance area having pressed forward to where they could watch my penetration. Slowly, slowly the flaming sword, lubricated with my own cunt-juice, passed through the muscular ring of my little anus and swelled gloriously into the tube of flesh beyond. Even in my masturbation fantasies I had never dreamed of such a heavenly blending of pain and delight. He was in all the way now. I could feel his heart beating against my back as he held me, and his panting breath against my neck. He was rocking slowly to and fro, pulling a little way out then pressing firmly in again. "Hold me, darling - hold me tight!" I heard him say. "Oh, yes, _yes_!" I forced my anal muscles to grip the invading erection with all their strength. How wonderful - how even more wonderful - the friction of his movement felt as he withdrew and entered, withdrew and entered against the resistance of my tight sheath. At last I felt him withdraw completely. "Oh, no!" I begged. "Don't leave me!" "I shall come, darling - I shall come." Suddenly I remembered his promise, the consummation of our love which I had asked for all those ages of pleasure ago. Quickly I twisted round and knelt at his feet as he towered above me. His erection was still huge and firm: I took it longingly in my hands and teased the tip with my tongue, drawing it then into my mouth as slowly and lovingly as it had entered my arse. I could taste my own juices: it seemed strange to be licking them and sucking them down greedily. I could feel his cock throbbing as my tongue caressed the sensitive underside; then I pulled my tongue back, stroked the thick shaft with my fingers, and tasted the tip again. Yes, already there were delicious drops of pre-cum to enjoy. There was no point in spinning things out further: his control was on the point of collapse. My lips and tongue sucked him eagerly, caressing the swelling tube as the flood of cum began to force its way up from his balls. Oh, so full - oh, so creamy and delicious! Every man tastes different: I had already discovered that in my brief sexual career. Bob's cum was the best I had tasted. Greedily I sucked and licked till there wasn't another drop to be had and his cock at last began to slacken and shrink. I sat back on my heels while he supported himself with his hands on the bed, groaning with weakness and pleasure. I turned a little towards the audience, letting them see me swirl the harvested cum around my mouth, then opening my lips a little so some of the creamy froth could drip lasciviously down my chin and land on my breasts. It felt warm and loving. I put up a hand and let more of the cum dribble into my palm: I held it up under the lights, watching it slither heavily over my fingers, then licked the precious stuff up again to join the part that was still in my mouth. With one finger I scooped the drops off my chin and added them to my mouthful. I left the drops which had spattered onto my breasts: I could see that they were glistening in the light and I liked the way they looked. Slowly, slowly I let the rich cum, the evidence of Bob's love for me, trickle deliciously down my throat. "Oh, I could live on this!" I said. Without realising it, I said it aloud. There was sympathetic laughter from the audience. "Would you like some of mine?" said a man. I looked up at him gratefully. I was so glad he had enjoyed watching me and wanted me. How I love it when men desire me, and want to give me their lust and their cum! He was holding his erect cock in his hand and pointing it at me. _Mine_! I thought proudly. He had seen me nude, he had watched me fucking: _my_ nakedness and _my_ sexuality had created that erection. By rights it was mine to do anything I liked with. But not quite yet. "Later," I said, my lips still sticky. "I'd love that. You owe me a lovely mouthful of cum. Don't forget. But later." I walked carefully away from the dance area and through my admiring audience. Before anything else I had to clean myself up. I was of course still balancing precariously on the slender heels of my pretty little shoes, and I was clenching the muscles of my arse tightly as I walked. I could tell that my stance, forced by the tight, high shoes onto the tips of my toes, was adding to the wave of desire I could feel enveloping me. It always did! As I made my way cautiously towards the wash-room, two of the pretty waitresses in their miniskirted and topless maid uniforms came with me in case I needed help. "Ooh, that was beautiful!" said one when we were alone at last. "Ooh, you are so lucky!" chimed in the other. I smiled at them gratefully and disappeared into one of the stalls. It was equipped in the most modern style, with hot and cold sprays under the seat to tickle you delightfully and warm air blowers to dry you. I spent a long time playing with the buttons on the control panel. But the two waitresses were still waiting for me when I emerged, refreshed and ready for more pleasure. They were holding bottles of lotion and began to use it on me, their clever fingers petting and pleasuring me as they smoothed the expensive cream into my skin. One was soon kneeling and gently massaging my bottom. As her fingers delicately approached my arsehole she looked up anxiously, wondering if she was hurting me. I smiled down at her and nodded. To my surprise Bob's penetration had left no pain, rather a lovely sensation of warmth which was slowly spreading upwards. There was a tickling sensation, too: not unpleasant, just a reminder that I had a permanent itch deep inside my bottom which could be relieved in only one way. Oh, how lucky we girls are to have _three_ holes always ready to be entered by our lovers! "Wouldn't you like to take your collar off?" asked the standing girl, "just for a moment? So I can massage your neck?" "I can't," I said. "My Master has the key." It wasn't quite true, of course: I had left the key in the dressing-room of our suite. But it would certainly be for him to free me from it, or not, as he pleased. "You are _so_ lucky to have such a wonderful Master," she said. "Does he tie you up, and whip you, and - and do lovely things to you?" asked the other with a shy giggle. I didn't want to admit that Bob had not yet whipped me, and that I was still longing for the moment when I could shyly beg him to grant me that supreme pleasure. "What pretty uniforms you wear," I said, changing the subject. "Oh, yes!" they both said, eagerly interrupting each other. "We have different ones for each day of the week. One day it's a sort of jungle outfit with a ragged leather skirt and one bare breast. Then we have bunny costumes, and skin-tight microdresses, and so on. Today is the French maid day." "Your breasts look _so_ nice naked," I said admiringly. "The wide skirt is nice too," said one; "the stiff petticoats swish so nicely round my bottom ..." "And of course the guests can reach up and stroke me," said the other with a pretty blush. "Nothing underneath?" I said teasingly. "Only this," they replied. "Look!" They leant forward in unison, lifting their wide miniskirts. I gasped with amazement - and envy. Each girl had a broad strap of polished leather round her waist, from which narrower straps descended and passed tightly between her legs. Fixed to the straps were dildos deeply inserted into arse and cunt. As I looked more closely and ran my fingers lightly over the stiff, shiny leather I could detect a faint humming. "They are vibrators?" I asked. "Oh yes!" said one. "We always wear them with this costume! Then we can never stop thinking about sex ..." "But the best evenings are when we have a dungeon theme," said the other eagerly. "The stage is set up as a prison and girls who have been naughty are brought on and punished." "How are you punished?" I asked. "We're tied up naked to the bars of the prison cells, and whipped. The male staff whip us - really, really hard - and the guests watch, and join in if they like." "That's not a _punishment_!" I exclaimed. "No," she said with a charming giggle, "but of course you have to pretend to be in pain - the men enjoy that and it makes them want to whip you even harder." "Mm'mm, lovely," I said: then added, "But if you wear these belts all evening, especially when you are looking so pretty in your maid costumes, it must be a bit frustrating being made to think about sex non-stop but not being able to have it with anyone, isn't it?" The two pretty girls looked at each other and giggled again. "Well, we have our _mouths_," said one. "In some ways that's the best," said the other. "Kneeling in front of a guest and slowly drinking his cum." "While the vibrators are driving us mad with desire." "Keeping us always on the edge of orgasm." I suddenly remembered that Bob was waiting for me, and that there were other men too who wanted me. We had a few moments' fun tweaking each others' nipples to make them stand up hard and erect, then the two girls fluffed up their pretty miniskirts, spread wide by the stiff petticoats, and took me back to our table. I sat down cautiously on the padded seat. The lovely warm, tickling feeling in my arse was as strong as ever. I hoped it would never leave me - that the more the itch was scratched, the stronger it would become. Bob smiled at me. "I'm sorry I was away so long," I said submissively. "Don't worry. I've been well entertained." He looked towards the dance area, where several naked couples were pleasuring each other. "How are you feeling?" "Wonderful," I said. "You were _so_ good to me ..." "No discomfort from, you know ...?" "Oh, _no_! That was the best of all," I said, wriggling luxuriously on my seat. "You _must_ do that to me again. Lots and lots." "I will. It was the best for me too. But not too often. I don't want to damage you. I want you to stay the way you are ... so wonderfully fresh and tight." "Am I? ... Is it?" "Yes. I was thinking, having your cock squeezed like that, must in a way be the sort of pleasure a girl gets from being tied into a really tight corset." I laughed. It seemed such an odd thing to say. And yet somehow I understood. A girl's body is sensitive, more or less, all over - while a man's sensitivity is concentrated in his cock and balls. So what a man feels when his cock is expertly fucked must be like what I feel everywhere. That's why a girl loves to be pleasured and constricted and - yes - whipped all over while a man usually doesn't. I suddenly realised someone was standing beside me. A tall man, with a huge erection which he was holding in one hand and pointing towards me on a level with my face. I looked up, and recognised the man who had spoken to me at the end of my fuck with Bob. I smiled. "You said you might like this later," he said. "It's been waiting for you." He turned to Bob. "I'm sorry, you'll think this very rude of me - but your little lady seemed to want more ..." "That's fine, you have her for a while if you fancy her," said Bob; then, to me: "Enjoy yourself! That's why we're here. I'll find something to do." He looked appreciatively at a nearby waitress, who smiled back demurely. My new friend put out his spare hand to me and helped me from my seat. "Thank you," I said. "I'd love to. Let's go and do it where people can watch. That's so much nicer, don't you think?" Soon I was on my knees on front of him; his big, beautiful cock was sliding into my willing mouth as I slowly - agonisingly slowly - sucked the creamy cum up from his heavy balls until it spurted along his shaft and anointed my tongue and throat. My waitress friends were right. It _is_ the best way - except for all the other ways! The pretty waitress was still working on Bob's cock when I returned to our table. I knelt beside her and put my arms round her tightly bound waist as she sucked him. When at last he had come, and she had drawn every last drop from him, I bent her backwards on her heels and kissed her passionately. My hair tumbled over her face and breasts. Our tongues coupled and we shared Bob's cum, mingled with the remnants of my lover's and the sweetness of our saliva. She let a little of her share dribble sexily onto her bare breasts, but I was too greedy to waste any of mine. I slid one hand up her skirt and felt again the firm leather of the straps holding her dildos tightly in place; she played with my breasts and twisted my nipple-rings gently through their holes. "How pretty they are!" she whispered, as we came apart at last. "I wish ..." "Why don't you?" I replied. "I'm going to have more fitted. In my navel ... in my pussy. Just as soon as I've left school ..." We kissed again. Her fingers were exploring my naked pussy, stroking my cunt-lips and making me wet with desire. "I want you," I said. I had never taken this initiative with another girl before - but I couldn't help myself. "Why not?" she said, blushing prettily. "That's what I'm here for. For whatever the guests want me to do - or want to do to me." "Are you happy here?" I asked. "Oh, _yes_!" she said, her ecstatic face telling me it was true. "It's lovely. And I can never have enough sex. Er ... can you?" "No," I said. "No. Never!" Bob had stood up. Smiling, he reached down and helped me to my feet. "Shall we go back to our suite now?" Before I could reply, my new friend interrupted hastily. "Oh, but sir - excuse me, but ... I think the manager would like a word with you first!" She guided us up onto the stage and we stood there, Bob and I naked of course, the little waitress pretty in her delightful uniform. The manager appeared from the wings: we had met him briefly on arrival - a handsome _gaijin_ in his forties, dressed in slacks and a shirt open to the waist. The band played "pay attention" music and the audience stopped talking. "Good evening!" he said. "I won't interrupt your evening for more than a moment. But before our friends here go to their suite to be alone together ..." there was a sympathetic murmur from the audience "... I have a present for them." The little waitress, who had gone off-stage while he was talking, returned with a package neatly wrapped in shiny white. "This is something we give to all our young couples. It's a sort of honeymoon present. We hope it will make your stay with us even more enjoyable. Please open it." He handed me the parcel. Of course one doesn't usually open a present in front of the giver - that is bad manners - but as he insisted I began to undo the wrappings. Inside was a box containing the most beautiful whip I had ever seen: a ridged handle designed to be held firmly and nine long, slender leather lashes: all in pure white. "Oh!" I said, hardly able to speak for excitement, "it's _beautiful_! Oh, thank you, thank you!" The audience applauded as I ran the pretty lashes through my fingers; and then, with both hands and a deep formal bow, gave the lovely instrument to Bob. He lifted it high and shook out the lashes, swishing them lightly as he smiled at me. They must have been all of two metres long. I was trembling with desire as I imagined how their loving embrace would feel. "Good night!" said the manager. "Enjoy yourselves!" I noticed he didn't add "Sleep well!" He knew sleep was the last thing on our minds. We thanked him and left the stage. I kissed the little waitress good-bye and slipped my arm gently round Bob's waist: he guided my feet as I tip-toed in my slender heels in the darkness along the uneven path. "You didn't mind my going off like that, did you?" I asked tentatively. "With that man, I mean?" "Not at all. I hope you had fun. Watching you gave me a good erection, and your little waitress friend noticed and sucked me nicely. Are you going to have her? I want to watch if you do." I had hoped this would be the moment to introduce the subject I was longing to discuss, but we seemed to be moving away from it. I tried again. "If I do anything you don't like," I said shyly, "I hope you will ... er ... teach me." I wanted to say "punish me", of course, but somehow my courage failed me. He looked down at me with a smile. "Oh, yes," he said. "I certainly shall." Of course we both knew what was going to happen as soon as he, and I, and the lovely new whip arrived at our suite. But I left it at that for the moment. I let my head fall against his shoulder as we walked. "Ah, it's so nice being nude together. Here in the open air," I said. "You say that now, do you? You made me wait a long while." "I explained to you. I was making _myself_ wait." "Are you going to stay nude for the rest of our holiday?" "Perhaps. We'll see," I said flirtatiously. "Maybe I'll wear little things sometimes. Little things to please you - for you to take off. And little things to please me." "What sort of little things please you?" I hesitated for a moment. "Do you remember what you said a while ago? About how tight my, er, you know, arsehole was and how nice it was for you?" "Yes, I think so," he said. "And then you said - I thought it was so clever of you - you said it must be the same nice feeling a girl gets from a tight corset." "Do _you_ like wearing a tight corset?" "Oh, yes. Yes! If it's really, _really_ tight ... and wearing nothing else, of course ... except shoes, and other ... you know ..." "Other bondage gear? Yes, I'd like to see you do that." I nodded, my heart too full to speak. "I've wanted to fuck you ever since I first saw you," said Bob. "Of course. But I'm so glad our first fuck was in public." "So am I! I _love_ fucking in public." "And I love girls who love it." "You're not jealous?" "Of course not! I like my girls to be promiscuous little sluts." I let out a great sigh of contentment. "Yes, that's what I am. Ever since I first appeared at a strip-club ... the manager hadn't told me that as soon as I was nude men would come up on stage and fuck me while the others watched. It was _such_ a lovely surprise! And then I _knew_ that was what I wanted to do. Always ... without stopping for a moment." "And get paid for it?" said Bob with a smile. "No, no ... maybe when I'm old enough to work for money. For now I just do it for my own pleasure." Bob stopped and kissed me. His hands stroked my pierced breasts. "How lovely you are!" he said. "My _perfect_ girl." We walked on for a while. A thought struck me. "You know, it's a funny thing about being nude. It feels so natural, and nice; and yet ... if we did it all the time perhaps we wouldn't enjoy it so much." "Yes, clothes can be very stimulating. The right sort of clothes, on the right sort of girl." "And the rules about what we cover up and don't are so strange. I mean, just now it's quite normal for a girl to go about in public showing off her legs; but before it became the fashion if she did that everyone would say she looked like a prostitute." "I like a girl to look like a prostitute," he said. I gave him a little tap on his bare bottom. Just half-way between a stroke and a slap. "You would," I said. "But girls enjoy looking like prostitutes. Secretly. Go on, admit it." "Of course we do," I said. "But only when all the other girls are doing it too." "Well, I'm glad they're all doing it now. The shortest possible skirt, the longest possible hair and the highest possible heels - that's my idea of the perfect girl, and don't you forget it." "Or no skirt at all - just the heels and the hair," I said, tossing my head and skipping a little in my heels to show what I meant. "Yes. Better still. But not so easy to introduce as a popular fashion," he said. "It's strange, really," I went on. "A girl has three holes to be fucked in. That's the way nature, the Gods, made her. It's nice. But somehow we insist that in public at least a girl must cover up two of her holes and leave the third one free for everyone to see. Why is that?" "I don't know; but it's given me an idea. Why don't we start a fashion which allows girls to expose any hole they like so long as they hide the other two? Think of girls going doing the street with their mouths firmly sealed with a ball-gag or something like that, and wearing skirts which are either completely frontless or completely backless, showing either their pussies or their arseholes? Can you imagine anything more delightful?" I giggled happily. We were nearly at the door of our suite. As soon as we were inside I went to the bedroom. In our absence the staff had removed the coverlet from the big bed and made everything ready for our night together. I lay back naked on the cool sheet and kicked my feet in their deliciously tight shoes. "Come and fuck me," I said softly. "Please." Bob looked down at me. "I'm not sure I can just yet," he said. "Not after what your waitress friend did to me." "Beast." "But I'm sure I can work up an appetite." He shook out the lashes of the whip. "Oh, yes ... _please_!" I said. "I'm longing for it. It's _so_ beautiful ..." There was no point in pretending not to want it. Acting coy, and begging for mercy, could come later. "Do you have a corset with you?" he asked. "Of course! Shall I put one on?" "Yes. I think you'd look nice in a corset. That would give me an appetite all right." I jumped off the bed and ran to the dressing-room. From the shelf where I had stored it I pulled out a little corset in white leather, designed to squeeze my waist cruelly while leaving my breasts and arse uncovered. It had a series of silver buckles down the front, but they were for decoration: the real constriction came from the long laces zig-zagging down the back. It was a present from a lover who liked to see his girl bound as tightly as possible and to hear her squealing with pain - I mean pleasure. Perhaps Bob had the same perverted fetish. I hoped so. I fixed the pretty corset round me as best I could, then walked demurely back to Bob in my high heels. "Please make it tighter," I said shyly. I turned my back, and gasped with delicious pain as his strong fingers pulled the laces tighter, ever tighter, round the metal hooks. At last he was satisfied, and knotted the ends in a double bow. "May I see?" I asked in a little voice - my breath came only in tiny gasps now. "Of course." There was a big mirror in a corner of the room. I preened and pirouetted in front of it: I had never seen myself look so beautiful. Bob stood behind me and petted me. At last I leant back against him. "Please whip me," I murmured. "Not yet," he said. I turned to him in astonishment. "Oh, but you _must_!" I said imploringly. "With that lovely new whip ... with all those beautiful lashes ... and I want it _so_ much!" "You'll want it even more if you have to wait." "Beast! I want it now!" "Of course you do; but I want you to want it even more. After all, you're mine now and must do what _I_ want." His strong hands tightened round my little constricted waist, imprisoning me even more. I decided I liked the idea of being his submissive slave. I twisted round and knelt before him - carefully, my corset made movement difficult - and took his cock in one hand, weighing and tickling his heavy balls with the other. "Oh, it's so _big_!" I said, "and so beautiful!" And then, after a brief interruption, when I could speak again, "and it tastes so lovely when you come!" "You like the taste of cum?" "Well, of course! Every girl does. I just can't get enough of it." I knew very well that men love to hear a girl say that, which was why I said it - don't you think I'm growing up to be a naughty little flirt? - but it was true as well. I was suddenly aware of a strange noise in the distance. I stood up, walked carefully to the window and leaned out into the dark. "It sounds like screaming," I said. Bob joined me at the window. "Yes, you're right," he said. "It's a girl screaming. I expect her lover is torturing her." The screaming stopped, for a moment, then started again. I was conscious of other noises in the night. Somewhere nearby a girl was alternately sobbing and begging for more. "Oh, the lucky, lucky girls!" I said softly, then turned and kissed Bob. "You will torture me too, won't you, and make me scream in agony like those girls are doing?" "Of course, darling, all in good time." He put his hands tight round my waist and made me gasp with the sudden pain. "I want you to scream louder and more beautifully than any of them. Promise?" "Of course I will. If you promise to make me!" I stood on tiptoe and kissed him. "I won't let you down. Everyone here will say, 'How cruel that _gaijin_ is being to his little Japanese girl - and what a _fantastic_ time she must be having!'" He said nothing, but looked down at me in a way that made me shiver with fear and desire. "It's so lovely to be here with you," I went on, more seriously now, "and I want you to do all the things to me that you most like doing to a girl. I want to learn all the things you enjoy most. So I can enjoy them too." "Some of the things I like are a bit ... you know ..." "Perverted? But I _love_ perverted sex!" "Where did you learn that word?" asked Bob, laughing. "Isn't it right?" I asked anxiously. "I was reading about it in a series in a girls' magazine and I looked it up." "Yes, it's right. Or you could say kinky." "Kinky," I said, trying it out. "No, I think perverted sounds nicer." "The way you say it, it is. But what do you call perverted?" "Well," I said, trying to remember the articles exactly, "I suppose any kind of sex that isn't just you fucking my cunt is perverted to some extent." "That gives us a lot of scope." "Of course, the perverted sex I love best of all," I went on seriously, and looking at him reproachfully, "is being tied up and whipped." "Go on." "Won't you _please ...?" I begged, looking longingly at the lovely white leather cat lying on the bed. "Tomorrow." "_Tomorrow_? But I can't wait till tomorrow!" "Yes, you can. It's all part of the pervertedness. Dream of it. Long for it. Think how much more you'll love it when I at last let you have it." "Mm'mm, I suppose there is something nice and kinky about that," I said, trying to please him by using his word. "But you won't make me wait too long, will you?" "Tomorrow morning. I promise. Think of the appetite _I'm_ building up. Making myself wait too." There was something in that. Surely he would whip me all the harder after spending the night looking forward to it. It was a bit like the way I teased myself when I was stripping, making myself, as well as my audience, wait before at last giving us both the pleasure of my complete nudity. "Go on about perversions," he said. "Is that what you call perverted things in general? Well, I want to specialise in perversions. When I start my career. So please teach me all you know about them." "Start by telling me about the ones you already know." "Well, taking you up my arse. Breasturbating you. Sucking your cock and drinking your cum," I said. "Of course that. And having you suck me in return. Did you enjoy doing that?" "Loved it," he said. "I want you to sit on my face again. In just a few minutes. You taste really good." "Thank you. Of course we did that on stage together. Are sex and nudity in public perversions? They feel so nice and so natural." "Well, I certainly wouldn't want you to stop doing them," said Bob, "so let's assume they are perversions and belong in your repertoire. Now," he went on, stretching out on the bed behind me, "I'm hungry again. Come and wash my face with your gorgeous pussy. Let's be perverted together." "Tighten my corset more first." "Are you sure you can stand it?" "I can stand _anything_ ... if it's really kinky." So then I knelt over him, while his strong hands round my tormented waist pulled my crotch tightly down over his mouth and nose. His clever tongue soon brought me to orgasm and my pussy poured its thick juice into his greedy mouth. This time I leant backwards, resting my hands on the bed behind me, so that my anus was easily available to him: he took the hint at once and his tongue travelled endlessly between my two holes, swinging me helplessly to and fro. The ecstasy of my cunt and anus combined with the agony of the corset took me straight to heaven. At last his cock could stand it no longer and we twisted round into a sixty-nine position: I stroked and sucked him to orgasm and drank his rich creamy cum, while he teased my delighted cunt with his fingers. == I was wakened by the morning sunlight streaming through the open windows. We had not bothered to close them or draw the curtains: anyone who wanted was welcome to watch us and share our pleasure. To my surprise we were still lying head to tail, his flaccid cock close to my lips and his head pillowed on my thigh. Then I remembered how we had fallen asleep, in that position, lips and tongues gently pleasuring each other. I had been sleeping in my high heels and my feet felt cramped. I eased my shoes off, kicking them onto the floor and wriggling my toes luxuriously. Very carefully I slid out from under the sheet which partly covered us. I was naked: Bob had insisted on my removing my corset before sleeping, despite my pleas that wearing it through the night could give me delightful dreams of thrilling sexual torment. I picked it up along with my shoes and tiptoed to my dressing-room. I found the key to my white leather collar, removed it, and treated myself to a luxurious western-style bath. Then I patted myself dry, made up my face, renewed the gold varnish on my toenails, and lightly scented my breasts and pussy. It was time to decide what to wear for the pleasures of the day ahead. I had worn white for my first "honeymoon" night. It would be nice to wear white again: it would match the beautiful whip for whose kisses I was so longing, and its white lashes would look pretty blending with white straps and fetish gear. But on the other hand black suggested dungeons, bondage, torture - and my aim was to suggest to Bob the experiences I most enjoyed. Perverted. Kinky, to use his word. So black it was: tight black shoes with heels so high I could hardly manage them, black wrist- and ankle-cuffs, a high black collar forcing me to hold my head proudly upright, a halter round my breasts with silver studs decorating the leather straps where they crossed. Finally I hung a pretty pair of silver bells from the rings in my nipples. Should I wear a gag? I had a lovely one with straps over my forehead as well as round the back of my head. No: I would invite Bob to gag me, but leave the decision to him. Probably he would prefer to leave me free to scream and beg for mercy. Yes, it would enhance his reputation as a lover if the other hotel guests could hear me! The thought made me giggle pleasurably. I walked back into the bedroom, teetering on my heels, holding the gag in one hand and letting its straps dangle behind me. Bob was awake, sitting naked on the bed. He looked at me appreciatively and reached for me; but I avoided his hands and made for the beautiful white whip lying on the table where he had left it. I picked it up and presented it to him with a bow. "Now?" he asked. He sounded reluctant. I hoped he was only pretending. "Now," I said firmly. "You promised." "Oh, all right. How about coming in your mouth first?" "Whipping first," I insisted, "_Lots_ of whipping. Then all the fucking you want." "Come with me, then," he said, scrambling off the bed and taking my hand. "Nice cuffs," he added as he opened the door to our suite and led me onto the broad wooden veranda outside which overlooked the garden. "Thank you," I said. I'm glad you like them. Is there anything else you'd like me to wear? Would you like to gag me?" I held out the gag and face-mask I had brought with me. "No, I think not. You'd look pretty gagged but I'd prefer to hear you scream." So I had guessed correctly. But I pretended to be surprised. "Are you going to make me scream?" "Oh, _yes_, darling," he said softly, as he held me with his free hand and kissed me tenderly. "You will scream. You won't be able to stop. You will scream so that everyone will hear you. 'That must be the little Japanese girl being tortured,' they will say." "_Ohhh_," I said. "And how they will envy me ... the girls, at least." My heart was beating fast and I could feel the juice gathering in my pussy. This was going to be lovely. In the middle of the front rail of the veranda was a broad empty doorway framed with strong beams. In the sunlight I could see that there were four big cup-hooks fixed to the verticals, with short ropes and clips hanging from each. It was a simple rustic whipping-frame, but it would do. Bob put down the whip, then positioned me on the top step and fixed the four clips to my cuffs. When he had shortened the ropes, I was tautly spread-eagled in the sunshine, facing towards the lush garden of the hotel. Bob patted my bottom and gave my nipples a friendly tweak. "Very nice," he said. "I shall enjoy whipping you like that. But just one or two decorations first." He left me for a moment, then returned with items in his hand I could not quite see. He stood in front of me and held two little pincers before my face. "You know what these are?" "They look like little clothes-pegs." "Yes; and I'm sure you know how clothes-pegs are used for sexual pleasure. But these are special. Look how strong the springs are." He demonstrated, closing the pegs tightly onto his finger. "And look at the little metal jaws with their tiny sharp teeth. Do they excite you?" "Oh, _yes_! They're beautiful! Where did you get them?" "They're made expressly for masochists like you to enjoy, and sadists like me to use on helpless girls. You can get them in specialist sex-shops." "Specialists in perversions?" "That's right. For sweet girls like you who like their sex, well, perverted. Shall I put them on?" "Oh, yes, _please_!" Delicately Bob opened one of the little pincers and fixed it firmly over one of my nipples. A great rush of pain surged through me. "Is that enough, or would you like the other one too?" I was beyond speech. I could only look at him pleadingly. He took his time, letting the sharp jaws close slowly, so slowly, over the other hard, erect nipple. The glorious pain was like an electric circuit flooding through my body and merging with the flow of pleasure from my pussy. "Thank you. Oh, thank you!" I mouthed silently. I want to wear them always ... always ... I wanted to add, but couldn't. "I like my girls to hold their heads up when I whip them," Bob was saying. I guessed at once that the other device he was carrying was a nose harness of some kind. He quickly inserted the padded hooks into my nostrils, led the cord over my head and through a metal loop at the back of my leather collar, then pulled it tight till I was gazing at the tops of the trees. "Very nice," he said, knotting the cord firmly. "Very arousing. Now I shall begin. Do you want to know how many strokes I shall give you?" "No," I murmured. "I am your slave. Torture me as much as you wish." "You're sure it won't be too much for you?" "It can't _possibly_ be too much!" I said indignantly. "Just try and see!" "Very well." The lovely new lashes were awaiting me, ready to be broken in on my soft trembling flesh. Bob took up position behind me where I could not see him. "Ready?" "Oh, ready!" I whispered. "I'm _always_ ready." For a few moments he teased me by just tickling me with the lashes: then their full force swished down on me. Bob concentrated on my bottom, of course, but varied his angle so that my thighs and my waist also received their share. The long lashes curled right round me, and sometimes Bob cleverly used only their tips on my thighs so that the ends could pass between my legs and flick their lovely pain at my dripping pussy. I lost all sense of time as I swayed ecstatically in my bonds and absurdly high heels. Soon I began to scream joyfully at every fierce stroke. I didn't care if I was heard by other guests. I _wanted_ to be. This heavenly place no doubt rang night and day to blissful screams of ecstasy from tortured girls. I had heard them in the night: now at last I was one of them. All at once, with one part of my mind, I heard voices. People were approaching along the path to our suite. Tied as I was I could not see them, but at last they came into view and stood in front of me: a man and a girl carrying an elaborate breakfast on two trays. The man showed little reaction but the girl smiled broadly. "Good morning sorrr! Good morning maam!" she said. Bob kept on whipping, and I kept on groaning, squealing and begging for more. "Don't worry sorrr, maam!" she cried. "We'll go round the side." There was a little gate in the side of the veranda railing. They disappeared from my vision and busied themselves, I supposed, with laying out the breakfast on the table behind us. Then they returned with just the empty trays, and bowed. "Thank you, maam! Thank you sorrr!" said the girl. "Have a good day!" And then, stepping outside the script she had learned, "Be happy, maam!" Bob went on whipping me as if nothing had happened and I went on screaming and imploring. But even heaven cannot last for ever, and at last Bob threw the whip aside and moved close to me. I could feel his erection pressing urgently against my hot, tormented bottom. "That was lovely, darling," he whispered in my ear. "It was lovely for me, too. Heavenly. Must you stop?" "I can't go on for ever. Now, shall we fuck? Or would you like breakfast? Or shall I just leave you hanging here helpless so I can enjoy looking at you?" "Oh, fuck me, darling. Please fuck me." So Bob released me from my bonds and my nose harness, and carried me carefully onto the lawn in front of our suite. The grass tickled and stimulated my tingling flesh beautifully. "Please let me keep my nipple-clamps," I begged. "Of course. They look sweet on you." He took me in his arms and thrust his huge erection straight into my dripping pussy. We were both so aroused it didn't take us long to come. We did nothing kinky, but straight sex is good too, occasionally, if you can find time for it between the perversions. == After breakfast, and another session of fucking on the lawn, we had wandered out to explore the resort's grounds. Now we were sitting lazily together under a tree in the big garden: I was half lying between Bob's open legs and leaning against his bare chest. I was naked above the waist too, and he was stroking my breasts and everywhere else he could reach, whispering into my ears from time to time that I would surely be more comfortable completely naked. I had on only a stiff little microskirt, tightly moulded to my bottom and with a broad leather belt snug round my waist, which I had chosen to wear on our walk, knowing it would tease and tempt him even more than complete nudity would have done. No panties, of course; and shoes with heels and ankle straps. In fact the shoes were a bit difficult for wearing in a garden; but I knew the stimulating effect they had on Bob, and that was what mattered. I was looking forward to getting completely nude, but there was no hurry. For the moment it was nice to lie within Bob's arms, remembering the morning's glorious lovemaking. I hoped he was remembering it happily too: my bottom was still tingling delightfully. "Let me help you take your skirt off," said Bob for the umpteenth time, his fingers giving my nipples a sexy pinch. "We could leave our clothes here and go for a walk through the woods." "Later," I replied. "I'm busy." "What are you doing?" Of course he could see very well what I was doing, but I guessed he would enjoy hearing me tell him, and why. I had brought my beloved whip out into the garden - the beautiful cat with nine long white lashes which stung so deliciously as they caressed my eager bottom - and was tying a series of hard knots into each lash. I wriggled closer to him so that my bottom could massage the agreeably hard lump between his legs, and explained. "So that it will hurt you more?" he asked teasingly. "Yes. So that it will hurt me more. So that you can hurt me more when you make love to me with it." By wriggling closer to him I had caused my skirt to move up my bottom and just reveal my crotch, a fact of which we were both very aware. Bob began to tickle the outer lips of my pussy; then he took his fingers away and licked them. "Please don't stop," I murmured. He put his fingers back where they belonged, exploring a little deeper and higher. "Do you call it making love when I whip you? I like that." "Well, of course. It's the best way of making love there is. For me, at any rate. I suppose it must be frustrating for you, doing all that work and me getting all the pleasure." "I make up for it later. If you remember." I giggled. I remembered. "If you take your skirt off we could find somewhere in the woods for me to whip you. Make love to you, I mean." "Later. I haven't finished yet." "Let me see what you're doing." I handed him the whip, showing him the lash I was currently working on. He ran it through his fingers, then tied the next knot himself, pulling it tight and hard. "Like that?" "Just like that," I said, testing his work with my fingers. "I'll remember that you made this special knot whenever it kisses me." I kissed the hard little knot myself; twisted round in Bob's arms and kissed him; and then snuggled back into my original position. "You remind me of something I was reading recently," said Bob. "Oh yes? What?" "I'm doing some research into nineteenth-century English pornography."[24] "Did they have pornography then?" "Oh, yes. Some of it is very good. I'm thinking about working with some Japanese friends to publish a series of translations." "Did they whip each other?" I asked, pulling another knot tight. "Of course they did! They loved whipping! They did it all the time. Of course the equipment was less sophisticated. What they really enjoyed was whipping each other with birch twigs." "Really? Was that nice, do you think?" "They used to cut long flexible twigs from birch trees, bind them in bundles and whip till they broke and fell apart. The girls adored it, and kept begging for more; and the men liked it too." "Why do I remind you of that?" "Well, watching you working on that whip, adapting it so it will hurt you even more ... there's a section in one of the stories I've been reading." "Tell me." "Well, in the story a boy and his girl have just spent their first night together. They are in a garden, just like we are. Except that they are wearing clothes. He is telling her how wonderful she was, and she is shyly thanking him for everything he did to her." "Sounds rather tame," I said. "And he takes her to a birch tree and invites her to choose the twigs she will be whipped with next." "That's more like it!" "So she chooses twigs, just as you are working on your lashes. Ones that will really, really hurt. Of course she is very inexperienced and doesn't know which ones to choose. So he shows her the ones with hard knots in them ... just like the knots you're putting in that whip ... and tells her they're the ones she will love best because of course they will hurt most. And she feels them with her fingers and blushes and says shyly 'yes', and he cuts them for her. It's a very charming scene. Then they sit on the grass together, and he binds the twigs into big, strong bundles. And she strokes them and kisses them, and decorates the bundles with pretty pink ribbons." "That's a nice idea. Does the story tell how he beats her with them - makes love to her with them, I mean?" "Oh, yes! They find a private place, she pulls up her skirts - she isn't wearing anything underneath, you see - and asks him very prettily to whip her. He invites her to choose one of the bundles of twigs, so she does that, and kisses it, and begs him to give her a lovely whipping with it. Which he does till it falls to bits."[25] "Lucky girl!" "Shall we go to a private place so I can beat you like he did?" "Not yet," I said, "I want to finish this first." "You really want me to hurt you more?" "Of course! You know I do. I adored the pain you gave me this morning. I can never have enough. And I can never forget it was you who taught me." "I thought it was a teacher at your school who gave you your first experience." "Well, yes, and there were others who whipped me. Some of them were very good. But you have taught me to love it." "What does it feel like when I whip you?" Bob asked after a pause. "Wonderful! You know that." "Yes; but I mean, in detail, step by step." "Well," I said, starting on the next lash, "the first few strokes - say the first four or five - are excruciatingly painful. When men did it to me the first few times I didn't think I could stand it. But then I began to love the pain because of what comes next." "Yes. I enjoy the way you screamed, and then begged me to go on." "Anyway, recently I've found I love those first few strokes more and more. Not just because of the way they bring me to the threshold of pain and pleasure. But for their own sake. For the pure pain they give. It's beautiful." I pulled another knot tight and hard. Another lash finished: two more to do. Then I could ask Bob to try out the improved whip on me. It was a good moment to suggest something I had been thinking about for some time. "I'd like to ask you ... it would be nice if you would stop for a bit after those few opening strokes. You know, pull me back. Don't let me pass the threshold. Make me experience the pain again. And again ... and again ... and then push me over into pleasure when you want to. Make it your gift to me. Make me wait for it." My heart was beating fast and I could feel my pussy flooding with nectar. I could hardly find words to explain what I wanted. But Bob understood. "Would you really like that?" "Oh yes! You do understand, don't you?" I added anxiously. "Sure. But it would hurt you terribly." "Oh yes!" I said again. "Wonderfully." "Shouldn't we set a limit at first? Or have some way you can tell me you've had enough?" "Don't be ridiculous!" I said indignantly. "You don't understand at all. Not knowing how long it will last ... fearing it might go on for ever ... that's what will make it so incredibly exciting." "All right. Four or five strokes ..." "... Very, very hard ones ..." "... Then a pause to bring you down again. Then some more strokes, then stop again. Just when you are about to cross the pleasure threshold. Then again ... and again ..." "That's right!" I said. "Just pain, agony. Pure. Beautiful. And not knowing how long it will go on." "It sounds very sadistic." "Yes. Oh, yes! Utter bliss! Pure perversion." Bob licked his fingers. "You know, there's a lot of lovely cunt-juice going to waste here." "Well - just thinking about it ..." "Yes, I know - but I hate waste. Why don't you sit on my face for a while?" I scrambled up and helped Bob lie on his back on a comfortable patch of grass near the tree. Then I pulled my tight little skirt up round my waist - well, it was more or less there already, of course - and knelt either side of his head. Some drops of juice pattered onto him. I began carefully lowering my crotch over his face. "While I'm sucking you," he said before it was too late, "you can go on telling me what it feels like to be whipped. You know, crossing the threshold, and what happens next." Then his mouth was fully occupied kissing and licking my pussy, his hands firmly on my waist under the little skirt, his tongue digging deep into my love-hole and slurping up the juice which had gathered there. After a little while I decided to give him an extra treat, and without warning - the way I knew men liked it best - I began pissing into his open mouth. I felt rather than heard his shout of welcome, and his hands pulled me even more firmly onto his face, his mouth clamping itself to my pussy and pee-hole as if it were stuck there for ever. I could feel his throat muscles swallowing rhythmically. Of course at my age my experience is limited, but now I have got to know Bob better I believe he is unusual in his gourmet approach to sex. He loves the flavour of young Japanese girls' pee - much nicer, he says, than that of older girls which can be harsh and bitter. And of course much more delicious than the pee of Western girls. (He once said Korean girls' pee tasted of garlic, but I wonder if he wasn't making fun of me.) And of course he adores the taste of cunt-juice - but that's natural enough. I adore the taste and aroma of cum, and am doing all I can to sample lots of different varieties and try to identify the subtle differences. Suddenly, after my flow of fresh piss had come to an end, I felt him pull a little away from me and ask me, in a thick croak, to tell him more about whipping. I sat firmly down on his face. "Silence, slave!" I commanded. "No talking! Suck!" He obeyed me, and I rewarded him by telling him what he wanted to know. "Well, once I'm through the pleasure/pain threshold, then of course every stroke of the whip gives me the most incredible pleasure. But it's not just pain which has turned into pleasure. It's pain _felt_ as pleasure. It could become pain again at any moment, and that's what makes it so thrilling. Do that again!" The tip of Bob's tongue was scooping round and over my clitoris, making it erect itself helplessly and sending delicious spasms of pleasure right through me. "That's right, like that. And of course the whipping sends me up, up into a sort of unearthly paradise and keeps me floating there. It's like an old-style top being kept spinning. It can easily stop. Does stop, when you get tired of whipping me. But somewhere in the centre of that paradise I know there is perpetual bliss. One day I'll find it. Then I'll never come back ... What are you doing?" Bob had altered position, pushing my bottom forward over his face; he had somehow formed the tip of his tongue into a hard point and was entering the muscular ring of my anus. "Oh, _yes_!" He was persuading me, in the best possible way, that what I really wanted was a good fucking. His mouth was back on my crotch now, his tongue deep inside me, sucking up the new flow of liquid his stimulation of my clitoris and anus had inspired. But I was determined to finish my work on the whip first. I looked round as best I could without breaking the firm bond between Bob's mouth and my aroused, dripping pussy. The whip was lying sprawled on the grass, just within reach. I somehow managed to get my fingers to one of the lashes, and hauled it in. Holding it now by the handle, I put it behind my back and let the lashes brush teasingly over Bob's bare chest. I felt rather than heard an "mm'mm!" sound vibrate deeply inside my cunt. I brought the whip round to my front again, identified the two lashes which had not yet been improved, and quickly tied the little knots, pulling them as tight and hard as possible. It did not take long: I knew very well that I had deliberately spun out the task so far, teasing myself - and Bob - by postponing the whipping and fucking which would follow. But I couldn't wait any longer. I pulled my crotch away from Bob's mouth, stood up, and helped him to his feet. "That was lovely," he said, licking his lips and wiping a hand over his glistening mouth, "but it didn't last nearly long enough." "Do you really like sucking my pussy so much?" I asked, for the twentieth time that weekend. "You know I do. You taste delicious. And thank you for the piss. That was a lovely surprise." I looked down modestly. "Help me take my skirt off," I said. Of course I could easily have taken it off by myself, but I knew he would enjoy doing it for me. He put his arms round me from behind and slowly undid the tight, broad belt. Then he knelt before me and pulled the tiny skirt down my thighs. He kissed my neatly trimmed cunt hair and looked up. "Ready, darling?" "Oh yes," I said. "I've been ready for ages." "Why didn't you say so?" "I wanted to tease you. You like being teased, don't you?" "Yes. And so do you, you little pervert." He was out of his jeans now, his cock beautifully erect. My hands reached out for it. "Oh, your darling cock," I said, "Wouldn't you like to fuck me first?" "Whipping first, then fucking," he said firmly. "Of course, Master," I said submissively. "Let's go and find a nice place for you to tie me up. You have brought some ropes, haven't you?" He picked up a small shoulder bag which had been lying under the tree, and looked down at me with a smile. "And ... and please remember what you promised." "What about?" "About ... you know ..." I could hardly continue. I was about to commit myself to the most exquisite torment I had ever enjoyed. It was all my own idea and I could only hope I could stand the agony. There would be no going back. "About stopping and starting again ..." I managed to croak out. "Not letting me cross the threshold ..." "You really want me to do that? Again and again? Torment you till you beg for mercy? Except we both know you won't?" I nodded in dumb supplication. He took me and kissed me, one hand lightly tickling my bottom with the tips of his nails, the other suddenly squeezing my nipple fiercely. "Oh, that was lovely!" I said when I had got my breath back. "What a sweet little masochist you are!" "Of course," I said. "All Japanese girls are masochists." "Nearly all," he corrected. "Well, some just haven't yet discovered the truth about themselves. They love pain really. They just have to learn." "Yes," said Bob. "And it's my job to teach them. That's my missionary work." Both fully naked now, we walked together into the woods in search of a suitable spot where I could be bound between the trees and subjected to new refinements of exquisite pain. My pussy and arsehole, damp with Bob's saliva, fluttered eagerly in the fresh air; but it would be a long while yet before they could be penetrated as they longed to be. I had the beautiful whip in my hand, its loving lashes dragging lightly along the grass. I was on my way to be tortured ... tortured slowly, ever so slowly, into Paradise. I longed for it more than I had ever longed for any sexual experience before. It wasn't difficult to find a suitable place. We came to a big tree with a horizontal branch about three metres above the ground. Someone had thoughtfully fixed a pair of short chains to the branch, ending in big steel rings. Bob put down the bag he was carrying, opened it, and produced black leather cuffs. I surrendered my lovely whip and held out my hands as he buckled the cuffs firmly round my wrists. Then he looped short lengths of rope between my cuffs and the rings hanging from the tree, and shortened them till I was standing tautly, my feet just able to take my weight as I stood in partial contact with the ground. Bob took another rope and tied my ankles firmly together, then wound the rope round my legs before tying the ends at the level of my knees. I was now completely helpless, and trembling with desire. "Torture me, Master - oh, please torture me," I murmured. "Soon, darling, soon. A little decoration first." He held before my eyes the pair of special masochist nipple-clamps, the ones he had used on me earlier that morning. He attached them tenderly, the fierce little jaws biting lusciously into my erect nipples. "Ohh, lovely! Ohh, thank you, Master!" "Now kiss the whip." "Of course. Before it kisses me." He held it to my lips, and longingly, lovingly, I kissed each darling lash in turn. "Please give me a good whipping. A _lovely_ whipping. The most wonderful whipping you ever gave anyone. Like that girl in the old story you were telling me about ..." He disappeared from my line of vision, and I felt his fingers stroking the trembling flesh he was about to torture so beautifully. Then at last it came. "Swish ..." The most erotic sound I know: the tiny moment before the whip strikes, caressing and loving me. "Ohhh!!" The supple leather lashes bit into my arse, enhanced by the flashing golden points of extra pain from the little hard knots I had worked so hard to add to their beauty. "Swish ..." Again; this time with all Bob's strength. The pain was the most extreme I had ever felt; it flooded through my yearning body, pure and not yet blended with pleasure. Another short pause; another agonising stroke from the nine knotted lashes; and then again. I could sense the pain/pleasure threshold ahead of me: it was almost within my reach and I longed for it so ... a fifth stroke would send me, screaming with joy, through the gateway ... It didn't come. With a refinement of cruelty - which I somehow remembered, in another life, having devised myself - Bob let the lashes fall; I floated sadly back to earth. Three more times Bob subjected me to this refined torture, taking me to the edge of bliss and then refusing to let me cross it. I was completely helpless: I had not agreed with Bob how many times he would repeat the process, nor of course were we using cowardly devices like "safe" words. I had started on a journey which I was powerless to stop. I suddenly realised that this was the most extreme form of the self-teasing which I enjoyed so much: making myself wait for the moment when I finally became nude in a public performance, keeping myself unsatisfied and holding back from the ultimate sexual gratification ... The fifth time Bob at last relented and allowed the lovely whip to take me all the way to the heart of Paradise, to that infinity of bliss and pleasure which I know is where I belong. == "Would you like me to go in costume tonight?" "What sort of costume?" "Well, I could dress as a schoolgirl ... or as a Roman slave-girl ..." I was thinking of the pretty waitresses and their daily change of costume. Last night they had been in a modified French maid uniform with naked breasts and miniskirts. What would they be wearing tonight? It was resort policy not to tell the guests in advance: it was meant to be a surprise. Would tonight be the dungeon theme my friends had told me about, and if it was, would I be allowed to volunteer for punishment? "Well, you're my slave-girl in any case, aren't you?" Bob was saying, petting me and playing with my breasts. "Yes Master ..." Suddenly I had an idea. "You remember what you wanted me to wear last night?" "Nothing at all, you mean?" "Yes ... you'd like that, wouldn't you?" I asked, tickling his balls with the tips of my fingernails and smiling coyly up at him. "No teasing? Of yourself or anyone else?" "No ... completely nude ... nude, nude, nude for everyone to see and enjoy." I was dancing and twirling round the room now in pure happiness. I came to rest again in his arms. "Of course that means I'll have to be fucked by anyone who wants me, like I am when I'm nude at my strip-club. Fucked, fucked, fucked ... again and again while everyone watches!" I started dancing round the room again. "Oh, I love it! You know the wonderful thing about being nude at a strip-club? It's being surrounded by all those beautiful erections! They're mine, mine, mine! I _made_ them by being a sexy nude girl! They weren't there before I made them! So they're _mine_ and I won't leave till I've fucked every single one of them!" I snuggled into his waiting arms again. "You won't mind, will you?" I asked anxiously. "Of course not." "Oooh, it's making me wet just thinking about it." "So it is. We've got plenty of time - come and sit on my face." "Mm'mm, yes! I'll hold you hard so you can't escape! You'll be my prisoner and have to suck me and lick me for _ever_!" "Lovely. But don't let's be late for dinner. You'll want plenty of time to show yourself off nude and give yourself to everyone." "Oooh, yes! But you want me to sit on your face first, don't you?" "Of course. I just said so. Do you need anything to drink first, or are you ...?" I knew what he meant. "No, I have plenty." I made him wait for it all the same. On his instructions I sat on the bed, his neck and shoulders resting on my crossed legs and his face buried in my pussy. By bringing my knees and feet closer together I was able to imprison him, holding his mouth tightly against me while his hands on my waist and hips pulled me even more firmly into the close unison we both loved. He licked and sucked me until at last I let loose the golden stream and let him gulp down the warm liquid in great mouthfuls - so delicious, or so he always said. Then he thanked me by teasing my clit and pussy and arsehole bringing me to orgasm after orgasm - or was it one continuous orgasm? I could hardly tell and I didn't care. How nice it is for a young girl like me to have this skilful, thoughtful older man always at my disposal to do all the things to me I love best - and to teach me to love so many other things. He is so generous! He makes me come repeatedly and comes so little himself. The least I can do in return is please him, like by going nude at dinner tonight.[26] One day, when I have started on my career as an AV idol and sex performer I shall have lots and _lots_ of lovers like him, but I shall never forget the good time we had this weekend - nor all the other good fucking and whipping we shall enjoy, I hope, when we return to Tokyo. "Oh, that was _so_ good!" said Bob, as at last we came apart. "I wish we could do that for ever!" "But your poor cock!" I said remorsefully, gesturing at his splendid, and neglected, erection. "Never mind! It will get plenty of action later. But sometimes it's so nice just to lie here and worship your lovely pussy. And still have the fucking to look forward to." I just giggled, blushed and didn't argue. Of course I didn't go to the restaurant totally nude. I wore pretty high-heeled shoes, snugly fitted the way I like them to show the elegant curved arch of my little feet. Then, just in case they were needed, I locked black leather cuffs set with strong D-rings round my wrists and ankles. I brushed my hair and checked that my pussy hair was still neat and enticing. Then I was ready. "How nice you look, Maam!" said my little waitress friend as she welcomed us to the restaurant. "So do you," I said. "What's the theme tonight?" "We call it 'The Disco'," she said. The waitresses were all wearing very tight, very short _bodikon_ dresses in different colours, outlining their pretty figures perfectly. It was obvious that they were wearing no panties. In their microdresses and slender high heels they looked just like the pretty, provocative girls who go to Tokyo discos, flaunting their sexuality as they dance. The effect was charming and I could see Bob's erection responding. I ate very little and soon the girls were inviting me to join them on stage. "May I? Oh, _please_ may I?" "Don't worry, Aya-chan," said Bob. "Go and enjoy yourself. I'll come and have you later." "Aya? Is that your name? It's nice!" said one of my companions. I recognised her as one of the girls who had helped me clean up after my public display with Bob the previous evening. "Well, Ayako in fact," I said. "Such a pity you won't be here tomorrow!" she continued. "We'll be doing 'The Dungeon'. We'd have invited you up on stage for _that_." "Will you be one of the girls being whipped?" I asked politely. "Oooh yes! We drew lots to decide who was to be punished, and I was one of the lucky ones!" "I'll be thinking of you," I said. I certainly would, I reflected, lying lonely and unsatisfied in my narrow bed at home in Tokyo. We were all up on stage by now, drawing appreciative attention from the audience. The sound system started playing loud, fast disco music. To begin with I had the thrill of being the only nude girl on show, but soon the other girls began to strip, their tight dresses peeled off and thrown aside as unwanted. We started dancing vigorously to the music, shaking our breasts and bottoms to the rhythm. Some of the lady guests climbed up onto the stage too, either nude already or undressing quickly as they joined us in the dance. Cameras flashed, roving spotlights caressed our nakedness, and the men gathered where they could look up at us. We danced more and more provocatively, the girls at the front of the stage high-kicking so that their admirers could get a good view of their pussies, glistening with the cunt-juice called up by the lascivious atmosphere. I was completely possessed by the sexiness of the dance, and wanted desperately to be fucked. Suddenly I saw one of the girls jump off the stage right into the arms of a naked man. Others did the same, and of course I was one of them! I targeted a man and leaped on him with a cry of "Oh, fuck me! _Fuck_ me!". He leant back in his seat and seized me round the waist, quickly sliding me into position so that his erection could enter me. I fucked him fast, keeping up the rhythm of the dance, and soon I was back on stage, my eager pussy now glistening with more than just cunt-juice. Again and again I leaped on my willing victims, perfecting the skill of landing on exactly the right spot to drag their cocks into my hungry cunt. I felt empowered, capable of fucking every man in the world. I could never, never have enough of this sublime experience. Sex, I thought, is what I am made for, and sex is what I want. Sex with great crowds of men, their huge erections teased beyond endurance and taking their turn as my three greedy love-holes impale themselves on their cocks and drink their rich cum. I never want it to stop. How could I, when I can never have enough? But after about an hour the vigorous dance came to an end and the music was replaced by something slower and more sensuous. "Look, Aya-chan is wearing cuffs!" the girl called out to the others. "We must tie her up! You'd like that, wouldn't you?" she asked me anxiously. "Of course!" The others wheeled forward a sort of padded table and I lay down on it, my face to the ceiling. They tied my wrists and ankles to the corners so that I was tightly stretched. At once they started petting and stroking me, pouring lotion over me, playing with the rings piercing my nipples, and running their fingers in and out of my cunt and arse as they dabbled in the mixed juices of so many men. Now I too had a series of tasty pussies sitting on my face and fitting firmly over my mouth, making my partners squirm and squeal with pleasure as I tried to do to them the lovely things Bob did to me. Soon I was at the bottom of a pile of wriggling slippery bodies, feeling as if every tiny bit of me was orgasmic. Of course I couldn't see easily what was going on elsewhere on the stage, but Bob told me afterwards that most of the audience, men and women, had joined in, the men fucking the waitresses or each other's partners and enjoying the pretty sight of multiple sexual joy all around them. Sometimes they pulled out of their partners just in time to spray their cum over the heap of femininity sprawled over my table, adding their cream to the lotion in which we were delightedly sliding and slithering. At last I heard a voice I recognised speaking softly in my ear. "Aya-chan, do you think your friends would let me have you now?" Of course they did, releasing me from my bonds and following excitedly as Bob led me to an unoccupied corner of the stage. "Do you want me to clean up first?" I asked anxiously. "I'm all slippery with lotion and ... and ..." "No, no - I'd like to have you like that." So Bob took me standing up, then leaning forward against the wall, then clinging to him with my arms and legs: his strong erection sliding in and out of my slippery holes as my body gleamed in the light and my audience cheered and urged us on. At last I fell to my knees on front of him and slid his juicy slimy cock into my mouth. It took him several lovely minutes, but at last his glorious cum spurted against my throat. After rolling it deliciously round my mouth, I let it all drool sluttishly onto my chin and pour down to mingle with all the other liquids coating my breasts. == "I have a surprise for you," said Bob as we walked slowly back to our suite. "Something to help you remember our last night." "Oooh! What is it?" "It's a _surprise_. I told you. Wait and see." Inside our room was a large object hidden under a sheet. "May I see?" I begged. "Not yet. Go and take a shower. Make yourself beautiful. Wear cuffs and your sexiest high heels. Nothing else. Bring some ropes." "Ropes? Ooh, yes!" I showered as quickly as I could and returned with a big selection of ropes. Bob had removed the sheet from the equipment, and I stood beside him looking at it. It had two square frames almost as tall as me, with a heavy horizontal beam linking the two. "Have you ever ridden a pony before?" asked Bob. "Not like this," I replied dubiously. "Where did you get it?" "I borrowed it from the hotel management. They have all sorts of equipment for guests to use." "What does it do?" "You sit in the middle," said Bob, "with this beam between your legs. It's triangular, you see, with the edge upwards." "Will it hurt?" I asked, with a mixture of anxiety and excitement. Bob took me in his arms and kissed me tenderly. "Oh yes, Ayako, it will hurt. It will hurt terribly. You will _love_ it. And I shall love watching you ride it, and listening to you scream and beg for mercy. I won't let it stop till you beg for mercy, you know." I immediately determined that nothing would make me beg for mercy. However great the torture I would stand it. I longed to be forced to stand it. "Are you ready?" "Oh, yes!" "Stand in the middle facing this way." I swung one leg over the beam. "Now lower yourself till you are sitting on it." The sharp serrated edge of the triangular beam fitted snugly into my crotch and stimulated my pussy. Bob took a long rope and knotted it firmly round my waist: then he tied the other end to the frame in front of me. Then he made me lean back - back till my shoulders pressed against the frame behind me and my arms dangled over it. He tied my wrist-cuffs to the frame. Then he pulled my feet well back and did the same with my ankle-cuffs. I was now bent into a curve - almost into a complete circle. "Very nice," said Bob. "Just a little decoration ..." He clipped wires to the rings piercing my breasts, and tied a rope to my hair pulling my head well back till I was gazing at the ceiling. That rope too he fixed to the rear frame. Then he took from the bedside table the pretty nipple-clamps I had worn for my whipping that morning, and gently fixed them to my nipples just over the rings. Once again I felt the luscious bite of the metal jaws. "Oh, how lovely!" I said to the ceiling. My toes were still just in contact with the floor. I felt myself being lifted on the beam as Bob turned an old-fashioned crank. All my weight was now pressing onto the beam embedded in my crotch. Leaning backward as I was I could feel it in my arsehole as well as my pussy. "Now," said Bob, "this is an old-fashioned torture device which was used to get confessions out of girls. Or to give the torturers some fun, I expect." "_And_ the girl being tortured," I managed to say. "Yes, exactly. The victim must have enjoyed it more than anyone. That is why it was so silly to subject Japanese girls to sexual torture. They would say anything to keep the torture going, they loved it so much. Anyway, in the old days the girl's best friends were forced to work the mechanism, under threat of being tortured themselves if they didn't do what they were told and do it properly." "What fun they all must have had!" I said. "But now of course the machine works on electricity. In a moment I will turn it on. I think you will enjoy it. I know _I_ will. When you've had enough, just tell me." "Rubbish!" I said. But not aloud. Well, I expect you can guess what it felt like when Bob plugged in the machine. The heavy beam vibrated between my legs, varying at random between different movements and intensities. Electrical circuits hidden in the edge of the beam delivered deliciously random shocks to my arse and cunt and, through the wires clipped to my rings, to my breasts. Add to that the increasing pain of my arched posture stretched on the machine and you can imagine the exquisite torment I enjoyed. I screamed, of course. Screamed joyfully and with all my heart. I was proud to show my happiness to Bob and to anyone who could hear me through the open window. And of course I never wanted this blissful torture to stop. After about an hour - Bob told me later it was, I had lost all sense of time - I saw movement above my head. Focussing my eyes, I saw that Bob was leaning over me. "Having fun?" he asked gently. "Oh, yes, _yes_!" And then anxiously, "Don't turn it off! Oh, _please_ don't! It's so marvellous! I love it so!" "No, of course I won't. I love it too - watching you being tortured and enjoying it so. But I want to get some sleep, and so do other people. So I'll just ..." I realised he was holding the ball-gag and face-mask I had shown him earlier. He quickly slipped the gag into my mouth, then fastened the buckles tight round the back of my head. "There! you look even more delightfully helpless like that. And I'll just ..." He tightened the ropes binding my wrists and ankles to the pony's frame, increasing the agonising pain in my thighs and shoulders even further. I think he also did something to the mechanism, increasing the power of its vibration and electric shocks. He bent over me again and kissed the tip of my nose where it emerged from the thick straps binding my face. "There! Sleep well, darling, Sweet dreams." And he was gone. Sleep, indeed, I thought. How can I? And how could I bear to miss a second of this? But somehow I did sleep, or at least faint or become unconscious. In my dreams the pony became a real live monster, carrying me across the world and through the air, torturing every millimetre of my tingling body, raping me gloriously, filling my every hole with huge white-hot cocks, as it bore me to heaven. Once again I woke to morning sunshine. I was still bound to my beloved mount, but the mechanism had stopped and the mask had been removed from my face. Bob kissed me, his tongue lapping the accumulated saliva from my mouth. "Oh, don't stop!" I begged. "I haven't had _nearly_ enough!" "Darling Ayako," he said, "you are the most fantastic girl I have ever known. If I could I'd leave you on this machine for ever. But we have to think about breakfast, and packing, and boring things like that." He released me from the torture machine and supported me to the bathroom where he helped me wash. "Time for a fuck," he said, when I had eased my stiff muscles and refreshed myself. He carried me to the bed and laid me out there. It was a beautiful, straightforward fuck: his lovely cock visited all three of my holes and finished in my mouth. "It's been a lovely weekend," I said, as I enjoyed my second breakfast, this time of fruit and toast. "I wish it could have lasted longer." "So do I." "But I have to get home before my parents do. They'll expect to see me there looking like a good girl in my school uniform, doing my holiday tasks. School starts next week." "Will I be able to see you then?" asked Bob. "Yes - I was thinking about that while I was ... you know, tied onto that lovely machine. Some of us meet after school at the gym. We could meet there." "Will I be allowed to? I don't want to get arrested for hanging around a school." "No one will notice. We have an arrangement with the caretaker." "How nice for him." "We have a little club. We call it the Rock-Hard Club." I looked at him and giggled. "I expect you can guess why. The club's been going for years at my school. On Tuesdays we invite our boyfriends and show them off to the other girls. You won't mind that, will you?" "I'll do my best not to let you down. When shall I come?" "The first Tuesday after school starts. A lot of girls will be there for the first meeting. We have fun. You know ... mostly lesbian, of course, but you'll enjoy watching and joining in, won't you?" "Thank you. I'd love to come." "It's the only thing I can do to thank you for this weekend. And - er - there'll be a little test. Just to check you meet our standards. But of course you'll pass all right." There was a funny look on Bob's face which I couldn't quite understand. I dismissed it and began to think about which girls I would invite to help me put him through the test, and all the things we should do to him while he was helpless and at our mercy. FOOTNOTES [23] For any girl who may be reading this: my advice is that choosing sexy shoes is a difficult art requiring a lot of practice. I like to wear shoes that are just a little too small: not so small that they hurt me (I don't get a sexual thrill from _that_ sort of pain) but constricting enough to reduce the blood-flow and give me the tingling feeling known as pins-and-needles. Sandals or covered shoes? Most men like strappy sandals which leave your feet almost naked; but some like the court style - and if they do, they probably like the front of the shoe (what shoemakers call the "neck") cut low to show a glimpse of the cleavage between your toes. And of course _every_ girl should learn to wear the highest possible heels. They make your legs look great, suggest that you are a helpless prisoner unable to run away, and drive men _wild_ with lust! [24] Victorian pornography is a fascinating study. A good place to start is a magazine called _The Pearl_, which appeared from July 1879 to December 1880 with a final issue dated "Christmas 1881". It includes some very enjoyable serial novels. Complete sets are easily available in reprints and on the internet. In some ways our great-great-grandfathers' tastes were different from ours: they liked their girls fatter and with more pubic hair, for example. But their literature contains delightful and vivid descriptions of whipping, oral sex, slavery, nude sex-parties and so on. - B W [25] This charming ritual, which occurs often in Victorian pornography, is based on real life. In his enjoyable and often stimulating study of Victorian sexuality _The Worm in the Bud: The World of Victorian Sexuality_ (London, 1969), Ronald Pearsall describes a Mrs Walter, who advertised "a respectable chastising service for unruly daughters", using "a strong narrow table, straps (waistband with sliding straps, anklets, and wristlets), cushions, and good long pliable birch rod." The victim would be required to bring the instrument herself from where it was kept, kiss it reverently, and beg to be given the best possible whipping. Afterwards, her sensuality on fire, she would again worship the instrument and, on her knees, prettily express her thanks and beg the gift of another lovely whipping soon. When a whipping had been promised in advance, she might be required to construct her own birch bundle from a quantity of twigs provided. Clearly an "unruly" daughter was one who had been detected in early experiments in masturbation, and the service provided by women like Mrs Walter was to ensure that she experienced the delights of the whip and the cane just at the right time for them to become an essential part of her sensuality. - B W [26] This is nonsense, of course! Obviously men come less frequently than girls; but we have the pleasure of constantly looking at them, enjoying their sexuality, watching the effect they have on other men. I think girls are at their most beautiful when they are coming, and helping them come is my hobby. A very well rewarded hobby, I may say! - B W [Next in Part 15: Chapter XV: Megumi: The Hundred-fold Curtain] For complete series so far see /files/Authors/Bob_Williams