We Always Do It For Real 22 THE MEGUMI STORIES BY MEGUMI KATO AND FRIENDS VOLUME 01: WE ALWAYS DO IT FOR REAL BY MEGUMI KATO AND BOB WILLIAMS PART 22 CHAPTER XVI Mr Otani Again To my great delight, Mr Otani visited Tokyo again from Los Angeles, and insisted on taking me out to dinner in the restaurant of one of the grandest hotels. Dear Matsumoto-san discovered that the restaurant had a dance-floor. She provided me with a long, black dress for the occasion, with a tight, low bodice, strapless so as to show off my ivory shoulders and offering discreet support to my breasts so that he could hardly help enjoying the sight of them if we should dance. The dress had a wide skirt in several rustling layers, fairly transparent, hinting at delights to come. With my hair up and decorated with silver ornaments, and long silver evening gloves, I was pleased with the way I looked. Heads turned as I entered the restaurant, stifling nervousness by keeping close to Mr Otani and taking his arm. Our table was a prominent one, but the waiters sensed that we had no time for anything but each other's company and left us alone as much as possible. We talked about my career and what I had done so far: he seemed to have seen every photograph and video taken of me, released or not. Delicately he asked about my difficulties with the flagellation scene, and I explained shyly how I had overcome them and was learning to accept the whip as one of the most thrilling of sexual delights. I found I was unconsciously wriggling in my seat as my bottom and pussy recalled the intensity of the pleasure they had felt. Mr Otani did take me onto the dance-floor when we had finished our dinner. I pressed my body against him: not lasciviously, just savouring the need we felt for each other and knowing that the pleasures of the evening had only begun. I felt his glance on my breasts, and let him know that I felt it and was glad. Soon he kissed me lightly, and we left the restaurant, the waiters bowing us out, and moved unhurriedly to the elevator hall and to his suite in the hotel. Standing before him in the drawing-room of the suite I removed my dress for him, slowly, luxuriously; and then after some show of modesty the tiny glittering g-string which was all I had on underneath. Then, wearing nothing but my long silver gloves and high-heeled shoes, I turned, displaying myself for him till I brought him to his feet and felt his loving hands caressing my breasts and my eager, moist cunt. "Yes, Megumi," he said slowly, "you look delightful like that." "Thank you." "Silver looks good on you. Last time I saw you you were in gold." "Yes." I remembered the lovely gold dress with the deep V front in which I had won his attention - and which he had so soon removed from my eager body. "But I think you need a little decoration, don't you?" Without waiting for an answer he moved away from me and I heard him open a drawer in the desk. He returned with a heavy chain in silver links, a little over a metre long, with broad metal cuffs at each end. "Don't you think this would look nice on you? I do! Put your hands behind your back." I obeyed at once, and he quickly fixed the polished silver cuffs round my wrists. I heard the locks snap shut. Without waiting for his permission I walked over to the wall mirror and stood with my back to it, twisting my head round as best I could to see what he had done to me. The heavy silver links looked good against the ivory skin of my back and bottom. I raised my hands, turning my wrists in the metal cuffs, and stood with the chain taut against my shoulders. It felt good too. I walked back to him and posed coquettishly, letting the chain move sexily up and down my back. "A very pretty slave," he said approvingly. "_Are_ you my slave?" "Of course, Master. I am your slave." "You know what slaves do for their Masters?" "They obey their every wish." "And you know what Masters do to slaves?" I had to swallow a few times before I could answer. His interest, during our dinner conversation, in my problems with my first flagellation scene came back to me with painful clarity. At last I said, or whispered: "They punish them, when they deserve it." "Only when they deserve it?" "Whenever they wish. If it is a Master's pleasure to punish his slave, it is not for the slave to question whether she deserves it or not. It is a slave’s duty ... her pleasure ... her _joy_ to submit to it. To beg for it." "Good. And?" I knew what he wanted me to say. Perhaps he would want it even more if I made him wait - just a little - before I said it. I looked down shyly at the carpet, and made the chain between my wrists slither across my bottom. "If it be your pleasure, Master," I said at last, "I beg you to punish me." "It is my pleasure." He went again to the desk drawer and I saw him pull something out: a whip with many strands. He brought it over to me. "Do you know what this is?" he asked. I recognised it at once, of course, even though I had never yet been pleasured with one. My whippings with Ken and on screen had been with a plaited leather bull-whip. But I thought it would give him pleasure if I pretended not to know what it was. "No," I said shyly, as he drew the slim leather lashes through his fingers and I tried to count them. "Is this what they call a cat-o'-nine-tails?" "Yes, indeed, my darling Megumi. Would you like to know what it feels like to be punished with this?" I felt the juice begin to gather in my cunt at the thought of it. My throat was still dry and I could hardly trust myself to speak. He began to let the strands of the cat tickle my breasts and stomach. I looked down modestly and leant a little backwards so that they could touch me more easily. They felt so soft then, and looked so slim and pretty, but with all the power of his arm behind them they would surely bite agonisingly into my shivering bottom and thighs. I could not find the words to tell him how much I longed for their cruel embrace. "Will you please, sir?" I begged at last. "Will you teach me?" Mr Otani smiled down at me, making me wait for his answer, and then nodded. He delicately stroked my bottom with his free hand, teasing the smooth flesh he was about to torment. I felt my skin tremble and quiver with a thrilling mixture of anticipation and fear. "I am so afraid," I said. "Afraid of what?" he asked softly. "Afraid I will not be able to stand it. Afraid I will not please you enough." "Don't be afraid," he said, gently, like a father reassuring his daughter. "It will be a pleasure. For both of us." "If it pleases you to whip me, sir, it will be my pleasure to receive it," I said, and with a coquettish smile turned my back on him, my bottom wriggling slightly in anticipation of what was to come. I needed no restraints of the kind which held me in position when I was to be whipped in the studio. I just stood naked in the centre of the drawing-room, aroused almost beyond endurance and awaiting my lover's attentions. On his instruction I put my hands above my head, raising my silver-gloved arms so as to keep them out of the way of the whip, holding the chain taut between them, and pushing my breasts provocatively forward. Mr Otani removed his jacket and shirt, standing bare-footed and naked from the waist up, the pretty whip dangling from his right hand. Even at his loving hands the first few strokes of the cat on my bottom were almost unbearably painful. But soon the rush of hot pleasure overwhelmed me, and I was sobbing and gasping as I implored him to whip me more and harder, my arse straining backwards into the blows, towards the lash, desperate to receive its thrilling embraces. The randomness of the cat's nine claws, the impossibility of predicting exactly where each would kiss my eager, trembling body, made the whipping wonderfully exciting. "It would be better if you stood with your feet a little apart," said Mr Otani. I quickly acted on his suggestion and felt at once how the lashes could now, if they wished, curl tormentingly round the delicate skin of my inner thighs just below my crotch, or even score a lucky hit right on my clitoris and on my yearning, soaking pussy. "Oh, harder, sir, please whip me harder!" I begged, as the thrilling, random lashes caressed me tantalisingly. Almost fainting with pleasure, I was still able to find a corner of my consciousness free to observe my performance. I was receiving Mr Otani's punishment willingly. Of course in the studio it was exciting to be quite helpless, to be stretched and tied down mercilessly as I usually was before being whipped for the camera. But this was much more thrilling: to stand here openly, naked, unrestrained, freely of my own wish accepting this wondrous torment at his hands. There was nothing in the world to stop me lowering my arms, walking out of range of his whip, dressing and asking the front desk to call me a taxi. _If_ I wished - but of course I didn't wish. I was standing there because I chose to: I was the one in command, while he grunted and sweated for my pleasure. Well, let him work even harder. "Please whip my breasts too, sir!" I implored him, my voice breaking in my excitement. Mr Otani laughed as he moved to the other side of me and began to aim the cat higher, the slim lashes cascading over my straining, erect nipples. What a pretty scene that would be, to please my fans! I thought, gasping and whimpering under the whip. But as the sensation ebbed in my excited hips and thighs, I soon had to entreat him to concentrate on them again, and as hard as he could. "Oh, _please_ hurt me more, sir!" I begged. "Can't you whip me in both places at once?" "No, of course I can't!" Mr Otani protested. "But - yes, I think I know what you want." He let the cat fall, and moved to the desk drawer from which he had produced it. For a few moments I stood neglected, feeling the thrilling sensation disappear as I looked sadly down on my beautiful leather tormenter, abandoned on the carpet. Then Mr Otani was back again, dangling before my eyes two clips in shiny silver metal, each supporting a delicate chain. I saw him test the spring of the clips on his finger until he was satisfied with their tension. They he moved out of sight behind me, and suddenly I felt his hands reach round and attach the pretty new toys to my nipples, slowly letting go as my breasts took up the full pressure of the clamps. I screamed joyfully as the excruciatingly beautiful pain seemed to arc like electricity from my nipples to my wonderfully stimulated clitoris, uniting pain and pleasure in one lovely continuum. "Oh, tighter, tighter!" I implored him. "Sure?" "Oh, yes, darling, you can hurt me _much_ more than that! Please ... oh, please!" "These are called butterfly-clamps, Megumi. You see the little chains hanging from each one? If I pull them, the clamps tighten ... see? You can do it yourself if you wish." "More, please - oh, as tight as they can go ..." I felt him adjust the clamps again, screwing my torment up to the maximum, then bend to pick up the lash from where he had left it. "Oh, darling Megumi, you are insatiable!" he gasped, as he thrashed me gloriously with all the strength left in him, the cat's nine lashes hissing round my quivering, eager body and almost - but not quite - bringing me to the orgasm I longed for. All too soon it was over, as Mr Otani tossed aside the cat and collapsed onto a sofa, laughingly pretending to be exhausted as I stood before him ecstatically begging him to continue my wondrous torture. Only the silver clamps still biting deliciously into my hard nipples recalled faintly the pleasure I had experienced. I remembered what he had said about the little chains. I pulled them, and succeeded in increasing the pressure slightly, but they were already at their maximum. "No, now it's your turn to torment me!" he said, pointing to the erect cock bulging through his trousers. "Here, let me free your hands." Quickly he unlocked my wrist cuffs and threw the chain onto the carpet. I knew at once what he wanted and knelt naked before him, fumbling with gloved hands at his trousers. At last I could ease them and his underpants down his legs and threw them to one side. I took his wonderful erection into my mouth, licking the sensitive underside and tasting the salty pre-cum from its little hole on the tip of my tongue. I let him have a few firm strokes into my throat and out again before removing his cock from my mouth. Ignoring his protests, I lifted his cock and balls out of the way in one silver hand and began instead to probe delicately along one of the highly sensitive folds at the very top of his thighs. He moaned with delight and I moved the point of my tongue slowly to the other side of his crotch, stopping on the way to kiss and suck his hairy balls, full of the cum which I was about to enjoy. Soon I returned to sucking and tonguing his erect cock, trying to catch him off balance by varying my rhythm without warning. At last I was rewarded with a stream of cum which I swallowed happily, eagerly sucking and licking the head of his cock till there was no more to be had - for the moment. When he had recovered from his orgasm Mr Otani pulled me up onto the sofa beside him, and we lay back in each other's arms. "My God, Megumi, you were good," Mr Otani said at last. "I was trying to be naughty, too," I replied hopefully. "Was I?" "Oh, yes," he said, stretching out on the sofa and not really thinking about what I meant. "Naughty but nice, as they say." "Thank you, sir. Was I naughty enough to deserve another whipping?" I asked with what I hoped was provokingly shy immodesty. "Darling Megumi, do you _never_ have enough?" Mr Otani exclaimed. I looked down and blushed without at first replying in words, my hand reaching for his cock and stroking it gently. Then I asked timidly, "Do you enjoy doing ... that ... to a girl?" "Only if I'm sure she enjoys it too." "Oh, but I _do_!" I cried beseechingly. "You know that. I don't know why I do, but I do. Please whip me again, as hard as you can. I love the pain you give me. Punish me for being so naughty - no, punish me just because you feel like it. Because you want to. I'm your slave. Punish me because it pleases you to hurt me, not because I somehow deserve it. That's what a slave is for. You told me. I exist to give you pleasure and accept whatever you choose to do to me. _Please_ be cruel to me. Use me. Hurt me wonderfully. Make me scream. Please. I love it ... you ... so much ... Master ..." "Let's try something else!" said Mr Otani, jumping up from the sofa, then reaching down with both hands to pull me up towards him, the pretty little chains which dangled from the clamps biting deliciously into my breasts tinkling musically as he did so. Alas, the sound reminded him to deprive me of them. Now I could pleasure myself only by recalling what I had just experienced, and by trying to imagine what was to come. Mr Otani strode across to the desk and this time pulled a cane from the drawer. We stood naked together as he showed me how firm yet flexible it was; and how, unlike with the cat, each stroke would concentrate the pleasure onto a tiny strip of my yearning flesh instead of spreading it widely and randomly. As I tried to flex the cane in my gloved fingers, I thought how beautiful it was in its slender length, and tried to imagine how it would feel as it kissed my flesh. [Next in Part 23: Chapter XVI Continued] For complete series so far see /files/Authors/Bob_Williams