We_Always_Do_It_For_Real.09 THE MEGUMI STORIES BY MEGUMI KATO AND FRIENDS VOLUME 01: WE ALWAYS DO IT FOR REAL BY MEGUMI KATO AND BOB WILLIAMS PART 09 CHAPTER VII How it all Began I suppose it all started a bit over a year ago, the end of 1991 or the beginning of 1992, when I was seventeen. I was at high-school then, of course, with no idea what I wanted to do in life. I lived alone with my mother in a tiny old-fashioned house in a fairly poor area of Tokyo. My father had died young in a car accident and I hardly remembered him. There were just the two of us: my mother had never married again. Not that it would have been easy to find a man willing to take on a widow with a child. My mother had a small pension from my father's company; she managed to make ends meet on her own but it wasn't easy. She had a talent for selling things and that helped her get occasional work: you must have seen the women who stand at tables in the household goods department of a big store, trying to sell some novelty kitchen item to a crowd of housewives. She was good at that but of course what she earned was mostly on commission and she never knew how much there would be or how long it would last. There obviously wouldn't be the money to send me to university or even to a college. About the only subject which interested me at school was English, perhaps because it offered a possibility of escape. But it looked as if, when I left school in a few months, I'd have to find work as an "office lady" in a big company, where my job would be to look cute in the miniskirted company uniform, make the tea and smile nicely at visitors. After a few years, as I began to climb the ladder of salary increments, the personnel department would start hinting that it was time I got married and left, and if I didn't would try to pair me off with some hard-working executive in the company. Then I would live the rest of my life in a small house in a "bed-town" an hour or more outside Tokyo, with a husband who came home at midnight Monday to Friday, a bit earlier on Saturday, and played golf on Sunday. Somehow he would find time to get me pregnant twice, and everyone would think I was very fortunate. I wasn't very excited about this prospect, but there didn't seem to be much alternative and anyway, at seventeen, leaving school seemed a long way ahead. Or perhaps I'm wrong and it all began much earlier than that, when I was twelve, and was starting to discover my sexuality. My mother was quite open with me, and told me the things she thought I needed to know even before I had my first period, so I wasn't shocked or upset. But I began to have some strange feelings and fantasies. I developed a schoolgirl crush on one of the male teachers. I can hardly remember him now, and later he left for another school, but at the time I could think of nothing else but of how to attract his attention. He took no special interest in me, either because he never knew how I felt, or out of professional discretion. I suppose pubescent girls behave like this to male teachers all the time, and videos about young schoolgirls being seduced by teachers are very popular with girls as well as with men, because both can enjoy fantasising about being the characters in the story.[5] Anyway, in my case I found that the only way I could persuade the man I loved to notice me at all was to be naughty in class. He warned me several times to behave, but, drunk with excitement at having got his attention at last, I behaved worse than ever. One day, when my class with him was the last before we were dismissed, he told me coldly to stay behind. The other girls left the classroom giggling and gossiping, knowing very well what was about to happen to me. "Megumi," he said, "I have warned you several times to behave properly in class. You have paid no attention. You used to be a well-behaved girl, but recently you have become intolerable. Have you anything to say for yourself?" Well, I could have told him of my feelings for him, but that was impossible. I just stared at him, my heart beating, aware only that I had at last found a way of being alone with him, of winning his whole attention. I said nothing. "Very well then, turn round." I did that. "Lean over that desk and pull up your skirt." I felt the chipped wood and peeling paint of the desk top against my hot cheek, and hastily lifted the thick cloth of my long, navy-blue, pleated uniform skirt with both my hands, exposing my bottom in its white cotton knickers. In my heightened state of awareness I was suddenly conscious - as the teacher I suppose was not - of suppressed giggles and light movements from behind the door, as my classmates competed for the best view through cracks and keyhole. The teacher picked up something - from my position, face down on the desk, I couldn't see what it was - and held me down firmly with one hand while smashing the ruler - I suppose it must have been - hard against my covered buttocks once, twice ... maybe twelve or fifteen times. The pain and the shock were at first so great that I could hardly even cry out. But my feelings were more complicated than that. I was being cruelly punished by the man on whom my growing sexuality was fixated. My confused mind began to see his cruelty as an act of love. I had no idea what that was, but had read and heard that it was the greatest pleasure it was possible to experience. Very well then, I told myself, what he is doing to me is an act of love, so what I am feeling must be pleasure. At that moment the pain did indeed change to the most intense pleasure, centring not only on my red-hot buttocks but also on those curious folds of flesh between my legs, and pulsating through my whole body. When the teacher stopped beating me and told me to face him again, I was too confused to know what to say. With a little more experience, I might have begged him to continue, to remove my knickers and beat my naked bottom, giving me the full measure of this strange, wonderful feeling. With yet more experience I would perhaps have tried to seduce him and learn about the true act of love, imploring him to penetrate my still hairless pussy. But as it was I could only stand before him silent and flushed. "If you do not behave better in future," the teacher said, "I shall send you for further punishment to the Headmaster. Do you understand?" That brought me to my senses. Being punished by the Headmaster would be a serious business. I stammered something about how sorry I was, and he gave me permission to leave. The other girls scattered giggling as I opened the door. I had already got into the habit of exploring my pussy and arse in bed at night, wondering at the enjoyment I could now get from tickling and stroking them, but I had not yet linked these pleasures with fantasies of specific sexual activity. That night for the first time I imagined myself submitting to being beaten endlessly by a strong, handsome father-figure while my fingertips produced the unbearable, tingling pleasure which I assumed such cruel treatment ought to bring. So you see, I was one of the lucky ones: my very first masturbation fantasy was about the sexual delight of being beaten, based on actual experience. Of course it was a very crude fantasy, but then I was still very inexperienced. I knew nothing then about the refined pleasures of whips, nipple-clamps, delicately graduated electric shocks to the clitoris ... those all lay in the future. All I knew then was what I had experienced that day, a series of stinging blows on my knickers from a wooden ruler, but I knew that it had done something wonderful to me. That ought to tell you a lot about me, and about the way my sensuality was going to develop. As my fantasy unrolled my fingers began, almost of their own accord, to probe into the strange folds between my legs. There was a kind of hole there, near the little hole I peed from, and it was possible to poke a finger a little way inside. That was lovely! And there was a funny little hard lump I had never really noticed before. I touched it gently. That was even more lovely! In my fantasy my knickers had vanished, and my cruel teacher was striking my naked bottom ever more fiercely and violently, providing the cause of the wonderful feelings shuddering through me. Suddenly and unexpectedly something tremendous happened, and a great fountain of pleasure burst through me: my first self-induced orgasm. I had no idea what it was, I only knew it was wonderful, and somehow caused by my beloved teacher beating me fiercely. I shuddered and groaned aloud. "Megumi, are you all right?" called my mother through the paper _fusuma_ shutters separating our small rooms. "Yes, mummy, just a pain," I called back after a few moments. "I told you so, you were greedy at dinner," she replied. "Remember next time." I was too confused to reply. "Try to get to sleep now," she said kindly. I took my wonderful new discovery with me into my dreams. == My best friend at school was called Kimiko. She was a few months younger than me, and her family was better off than mine - not rich, but comfortable. Her father was a department chief in a car manufacturing company, and she was the youngest of three. Kimiko was a mistake, engendered when her father got drunk one night celebrating his first big promotion in the company - or so her mother sometimes said. Japanese can be very open about these things, and anyway departing from the standard Japanese pattern of two children at most had to be apologised for, or at least explained. When Kimiko's parents let her have a party for her seventeenth birthday she kindly invited me and said it should be my birthday party too because of course I hadn't had one the previous November - my mother couldn't afford it. It was a simple affair, just a few of our friends sitting around in Kimiko's parents' house, eating the special food her mother had cooked, drinking soft drinks, listening to records and gossiping. While this was going on, Kimiko's elder brother came and joined us. His name was Kenichiro, but he was always called Ken for short and was rather proud of having a name that worked in both Japanese and English. He was five years older than me and was crazy about films. He wanted to be a film director and was studying at a specialist college. Maybe it was because he was planning to be an artist rather than a company executive, but he was more relaxed with girls around than most Japanese young men, and I think he had agreed to look in on his sister's birthday party because he wanted to see if any of her friends were worth picking up. I don't know why he took a liking to me, but for some reason he thought I was cute and talked to me a lot that evening. I was so interested to meet someone who knew what he wanted to do in life that I must have pleased him by being submissive and attentive. A week later he called me, having got my home number from his sister, and asked me out. We went on a few dates together, nothing special, usually going to cinemas where classic films he admired were being shown, and ending up with a hamburger or something. One evening we went to see a famous Kurosawa film and the cinema was so full we and a few others had to stand along the side. More people joined us and I stood a little in front of the others so as to see better. Suddenly I realised Ken had has hands lightly on my waist. He had touched me before of course but never quite like this. It felt nice and without really meaning to I moved nearer to him. His arms began to hold me closer, and he gradually moved his hands gently over my body, caressing my breasts through my dress and even beginning to explore between my legs. I really liked it and began to move my body against his, feeling through his trousers the exciting hardness of his cock against my bottom. Suddenly I twisted round in his arms and gave him a quick kiss before turning back towards the screen, letting my head fall back onto his shoulder. His hand got bolder and began to work its way down to the hem of my short skirt, trying to pull it up and reach the top of my thighs. I didn't mind at all, but I was afraid that in the dim light someone might be able to see what we were doing. I removed his hand and placed it instead where he could fondle my crotch through the cloth of my dress. After a while he whispered hoarsely in my ear: "Shall we go somewhere?" I knew what he meant of course. Tokyo is full of "love hotels", places where a couple can rent a room for an hour to enjoy each other in privacy, no questions asked. I had lost my virginity a year before in one of them. At that time one of the national newspapers was running a series of "Tut-tut, what are our young people coming to, is this the end of Japan as we have always known it?" articles. It had been sparked off by a news story that groups of school-kids were pooling their pocket-money to rent rooms in love-hotels and do some sexual experimenting. The police were full of disapproval, and fussed because there was nothing they could do: young people enjoying themselves on their own like that obviously ought to be stopped, but the trouble was that if they were over sixteen and doing it out of school hours, then they weren't breaking any law. No one in my group of friends at school had thought of doing this before we read the newspaper articles, but we thought of it then. Somehow half-a-dozen of us scraped together the money to try it out. At first we didn't do much more than dare each other to take our school uniforms off, and then touch each other's sexual parts for a few moments before collapsing into giggles; but after a few sessions like that the boys got bolder and soon we girls all learnt what it felt like to have erect cocks in our cunts. I don't think any of us enjoyed the experience much - the boys were clumsy and their ideas of how to fuck a girl came mainly from the sadistic _manga_ cartoon magazines they secretively shared - and after a while we found we had better things to spend our pocket-money on. By then I had more or less forgotten the crush on my teacher, and how I had found pleasure in skilfully applied pain - except in continuing night-time fantasies which I was a bit shy about enjoying. After that we girls tended to stick together in giggling groups, sharing what we had found out about sex: telling each other about the old men (well, they seemed old to us) who rubbed their erections against our school uniform skirts in crowded subway trains and imagined we didn't know what they were up to; and about the dealers who hung about the plaza where the statue of the faithful dog Hachiko stands outside Shibuya Station, offering money to crowds of schoolgirls, out for an early evening treat, for their unwashed knickers, which would then be carefully packaged to preserve the smells of our sweaty pussies and arses and sold to other old men to masturbate with. Others were talent-scouts representing companies dealing in pornographic photographs: there was quite a demand for photos of schoolgirls showing innocently or knowingly what was under their school uniform sailor suits, or of friends playing with each other. Some of my school-friends earned extra pocket-money by taking part in these photo sessions. Perhaps I would have done so too if any of the dealers had asked me, but none ever did. I suppose my tall, skinny sixteen-year-old body wasn't yet developed in ways that would interest the legions of dirty old men. My breasts were beginning to grow, and as I admired myself as best I could in the bathroom mirror at home I could see that the former gawkiness was filling out into a slender beauty. I liked my body: the way it looked, and the pleasurable feelings it could give me when treated the right way. Before going to bed at night I would stand naked in the bathroom, petting myself and twisting round awkwardly to enjoy the developing curves of breast, buttock and thigh. I began a fantasy that the mirror was only one-way and that on the other side stood a man silently watching me. I did my best to give him a good show as I preened and pouted. FOOTNOTE [5] Quite a lot of these videos star real schoolgirl Lolitas using their newly developed sexuality to earn a little extra pocket-money. But Marucho are careful to keep clear of the black market. Of course for the videos to be legal the actresses who play the schoolgirls must themselves be over eighteen, but some of us are very skilful at looking and behaving years younger than we really are when dressed in a school uniform. [Next in Part 10: Chapter VII concluded and Chapter VIII: Megumi's Vocation]