WORK IN PROGRESS 12 THE MEGUMI STORIES BY MEGUMI KATO AND FRIENDS VOLUME 05: WORK IN PROGRESS BY BOB WILLIAMS ASSISTED BY MEGUMI, NORIKO, FUJIKO, AYUMI, SAEKO, MARIKO, TAMA, MAIKO, SHIZUE, MIE, AYAKO, TOMO, YUU AND RUMI PART 12 CHAPTER XII The Willing Slave I enjoy writing about Shizue. As well as being exceptionally beautiful, she had a delightfully well-developed interest in masochism, and we spent some pleasant hours together in my torture-chamber. Our description of the imaginary, yet to be built, joy machine (see Chapter IX) was targeted mainly at gadget-freaks. Here is a more general - even if, I must admit, somewhat idealised - account she herself wrote of our day-to-day activities together. I know what to do, so I do it without being told. I go to the bedroom and remove my clothes. I shower carefully, and when I have finished I take a pair of nail-scissors and snip away any long hairs from my pussy. I scent my breasts, my cunt and my arse with a scent which I know he likes - I find it stimulating too. I brush my hair, many times, till it hangs behind me like a shining curtain. I ensure my make-up is perfect, using a pretty petunia shade of lipstick and adding a tiny dab of it to each nipple. Then I put on my shoes. They are shiny black, a snug, even tight, fit with slender heels so high that I am forced onto tiptoe and can take only tiny steps when I walk. He likes to see me helpless like that, and it gives me a lovely feeling of simultaneous defencelessness and power - power because no one who sees me so restrained can avoid being fascinated by me. Nothing else. Everything else I need to wear will be waiting for me in the place where I am going. I walk down the corridor taking tiny steps. My heart is beating fast and I can feel my sexuality mounting. Soon it will be at the highest possible pitch and on an orgasmic hair-trigger. He knows how to have that effect on me. That is why I dedicate all my free time to serving him without question if only he will occasionally grant me these hours of ecstasy. I stop outside the door of the place where I am going. It has a name - a terrible name - but it makes me tremble even to think it, let alone speak it. The door is sound-proofed so I press a button which will tell him I am here. The door opens. "May I enter, Master?" I ask. He says nothing but stands aside for me. The place is brightly lit and is furnished with a comfortable armchair and a narrow bed, both upholstered in black leather. There is a double stand supporting both a still camera and a video camera, and a table in one corner heaped with pieces of equipment. There is also something hanging from the ceiling which I am afraid to look at. The door clicks shut behind me. I do not know the code which will open it. "Why are you here?" he says at last. "To serve you, Master," I reply shyly. "To obey your every command in the hope that it will give you pleasure." "And are you here of your own free will?" The question makes me shiver even though the place is pleasantly warm. "Yes, Master," I say at last. "I am here because I wish to be. I serve you because I must." "Must?" "My desires - my sexuality - compel me to serve you and do everything you order me. I have no alternative. Giving you pleasure and satisfaction is the only purpose of my life." "Good." Picking up items from the corner table he begins to decorate me. First leather cuffs are locked round my wrists and ankles, and a leather belt is buckled tightly round my waist. Then a heavy metal collar is snapped into place round my neck. It is wide and forces me to hold my head up high, but it is padded with soft leather and feels very comfortable. Knowing what must come next, I tiptoe to the centre of the place and stand under the - thing - which is hanging from the ceiling. In fact it is a heavy wooden beam suspended from two chains and studded with massive hooks. He attaches chains to the D-rings in my wrist-cuffs, then fixes the other ends to the hooks at the furthest ends of the beam. Still I can move freely. Next he fetches a heavy metal bar about a metre long and with a big eye-hole at each end. I move my feet apart for him and he locks the bar to the D-rings in my ankle-cuffs with big padlocks. Then I feel my hands being raised as the wooden beam moves smoothly and silently upwards. I can no longer move much, but I am not stretched tautly. That, I know, will come later. This of course is only the beginning. More sophisticated equipment now follows. First, he brings two glittering metal disks which fit snugly over my straining, erect nipples. He twists the mechanisms so that the disks grip firmly, but not yet painfully. Not yet. Next come smooth metal dildos, a thick one for my cunt and a narrower one for my arsehole. I feel their elegant length penetrating me and I shiver with fear and desire. A narrow strap is passed between my legs, and buckled firmly to my belt front and back, to hold the dildos in place. For the moment they lie still, snug in my holes. _Their_ holes - the holes where they belong. "You look very pretty," he says. "Thank you, Master." "Are you happy like that? Content for me to use you for my pleasure?" "And for my pleasure too, Master!" I say, very daring. "Of course. I hope so." He looks at me carefully, and tightens the grip of the disks attached to my breasts. "I shall of course gag you," he says, "so you won't be able to tell me if you're not happy. So say anything you want to say now." "Please, Master," I say, getting out the words with difficulty, "please use me as you wish - as much as you wish, as cruelly as you wish. It is my delight to serve you. I am your slave - your sex-slave. Nothing can be too much for me if it gives you the slightest pleasure." "Good." Now is the moment for the gag. He shows me a broad leather strap in which a plastic plug is fitted. It is shaped like a short, fat cock and I open my mouth to receive it. It fits comfortably over my tongue and gives me the pleasant illusion of caressing and sucking a real erection. He buckles the strap firmly round the back of my head. There are also two narrow straps passing either side of my nose and meeting on my forehead before passing over the top of my head to be buckled to the strap at the back. The device does not cover my eyes, so unless he chooses to blindfold me as well I shall be able to see what is being done to me even though I can do nothing to stop it. That gives me a shivery feeling of fear and desire. Now I am being stretched. The beam is slowly rising and does not stop till my heels are almost off the ground and I am supported mostly by my toes. He looks at me, nods and smiles. Then he increases the grip of the nipple-clamps till the white-hot agony possesses my whole body. He nods again, then sits in the armchair. He has a remote control in his hand, and switches on the dildos in my cunt and arse. They vibrate and wriggle tantalisingly, the pleasure contrasting agreeably with the exquisite pain from my breasts. Then suddenly they begin to torment me with electric shocks, random in both intensity and duration. I try to scream but of course I cannot. I would not beg for mercy even if I could - this is what I have come to this place for, or part of it - but I writhe and wriggle as best I can and toss my head from side to side. A little flashing red light on the video camera tells me that my orgasmic agony is being recorded. Soon no doubt it will be made available on the internet, to be watched by thousands - millions! - around the world whose erotic interest is aroused by the sight of a nude Japanese girl being tortured. Yes, tortured, because that is what this fearful place is called: a torture-chamber. Well, if my video shows them how to perform erotic torture really well they and above all their girls should be grateful to me ... He slows down the electric shocks and I stop writhing. He is standing again, smiling at me. "I want you to see what I have planned for later," he said, "so you can look forward to it." One by one he holds before my eyes the instruments he has chosen: a long cat-o'-nine-tails with slim lashes in whipcord; another the same except for the hard, cruel knots along the length of each lash; a shorter cat with broad leather straps for lashes; canes and switches of varying length and thickness; and finally a long plaited leather whip which he wraps gently round my hips showing me how it can embrace me three times at each stroke. Of course I have experienced these lovely toys before in this place and am not afraid of them: I am only concerned that I might reach orgasm too soon and deprive him of the pleasure of leading me up to it agonisingly slowly. But then I recall that it does not matter: we have agreed from the start that if I faint with pleasure he will continue whipping me, keeping me floating for hours in that private heaven that only a true masochist - and a Japanese girl masochist at that - can know. There is another twist yet in the mechanism of my nipple-clamps and the unexpected extra torture makes me stiffen my body and arch my back, lifting my heels to point my toes yet further as a girl involuntarily does as orgasm approaches. Then the delicious wriggling and electric stimulation of the dildos begin again, and are increased to the highest level. I do my best to show the ecstatic agony my whole body is feeling, pleasing him and, I hope, those who will enjoy the video recording. Then it begins. It takes me by surprise, which in fact is the nicest way. I have my eyes closed and am floating blissfully in the lower foothills of the heaven which lies ahead. Suddenly the first stroke of the first whip thrills through me. He has not told me in what order he will use his lovely instruments, but as I am brought back to reality I can tell that he has begun with the long plaited leather whip. It curls almost lazily three times round my hips, its loving embrace leaving rings of fire round my ecstatic body. "Again! Again! More! Harder, harder!" I want to beg him but cannot; it does not matter as he knows what I want and wants it too. Again and again the wonderful lashes embrace me. He skilfully varies the instruments he uses without any warning, the most glorious experience being his occasional use of the flexible canes. Instead of curling lovingly round me, the canes write lines of white-hot fire on my terrified but eager flesh. I can hardly support myself in my helpless ecstasy and hang in my bonds, begging him silently, "Take me! Oh, take me to heaven! I am ready!" He understands me and increases the speed and intensity of his whipping. With a gasp I leave the world of reality and pass into my orgasmic heaven. He is using the cat with the myriad hard knots now and they scatter handfuls of golden stars across the intense blue of the sky under which I am floating. I am approaching my goal now, an intense light which is where I belong and long to be. Voices are calling to me, telling me to come to them, to join the others who have already achieved this nirvana of sensual bliss. I have never been this close before: will I reach it? What will happen if I do - will I stay there and abandon my earthly body and the pleasures it gives me, or will I return to it bringing that inner grace which I have sometimes detected in girls more advanced than I in the delights of masochistic orgasm? Perhaps that flicker of interest in worldly matters was a mistake. I feel myself slipping away from the friends I know are calling to me. Gradually I leave the lightness of my heaven and darkness slowly overwhelms me. It is darkness illuminated by the flickering wonder of his continued whipping of my unconscious body, but it is so far from heaven! Never mind: I know where it is and how to get there, and one day I will achieve my ultimate desire. I cannot tell how much longer he goes on whipping me, but slowly the wonder and the ecstasy subside. I open my eyes. I am still standing in my bonds, my toes and heels still just in contact with the carpet. Experimenting, I find that my gag had been removed. The whipping has stopped but my breasts are still burning with the agony of their clamps and the electric dildos are still delighting my love-holes. He is sitting in front of me in his armchair, lazily swishing a whip from side to side. "Welcome back!" he says. "From wherever you were. Goodness, you made me work hard." "Thank you!" I say. "Oh, thank you! I'm sorry I was so much trouble." "Never mind - you can make it up to me." He stands, and frees my wrists from the overhead beam. He supports me as I fall to the floor. He returns to his chair, and I crawl towards him, my hands reaching for his beloved cock, my mouth and tongue longing to thank him in the best way I know. [Next in Part 13: Tomo: Shopping] For complete series so far see /files/Authors/Bob_Williams