As I am not a native speaker, please excuse the mistakes.
I will appreciate help in revising what I wrote.
Contact me at ducgab@gmail.com
A small Tokyo park

In the little urban park, not far from the tracks of the Yamanote
line, there are no more than three or four benches, a brightly
painted swing for children, a few trees, some of which are hidden
by thick bushes. A little concrete building hosts a public
toilet.
In the crisp, cool air of a spring early morning – the sun has
yet to rise – a young woman, more than twenty, not yet thirty,
enters the park, walking with nonchalant grace.
She wears a dark blue raincoat, with a large blue belt, made of
the same fabric of the coat, blue high heel shoes and carries a
large, rigid suitcase made in black leather.
She is petite. Long black hair, parted in the middle, arrives
below her shoulders, her small but fleshy mouth shines of a
glossy light pink lipstick, curved in an imperceptible smile. Her
large, almond shaped black eyes look ahead, with self-assured
calmness. She sits on a bench, the legs slightly parted. The rim
of the coast arrives just a little below her knees, leaving
visible the curve of her well-shaped calves.
The little park is deserted. It is one of those neighborhoods in
central Tokyo that do not seem to belong to the largest city in
the world.
She looks like she is relaxing after having enjoyed a morning
walk, just before leaving for work, probably for one of the large
corporations typical of the Japanese business landscape.

A few minutes later a man arrives, walking briskly. He wears
jeans, a white T-shirt and a black leather jacket. He is much
older than her, surely beyond forty, maybe already fifty.
However, he has none of the worn-out expressions and mannerisms
of the middle-age white collars that live in the city.  He is
still fit, the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth worn like a
badge of honor; they make him more attractive, rich of manly
experience.
They exchange a brief greeting, the girl smiles a little more;
the man looks at her concentrated as if he is weighting some
possibilities. He opens the suitcase and extracts a coil of steel
wire, a plier, and a smaller leather box, which could contain a
musical instrument, such as a flute or an oboe. The man walks
around the bench and places himself behind the girl. He quickly
cuts two pieces of wires.  He takes from behind one of the wrists
of the girl, and pushes it against the rails of the bench, widely
detaching it from the rest of the body. Then he secures it to the
rails through the wire, twisting repeatedly the extremities,
until it is impossible for her to free herself, or even to move
it.  He repeats the same procedure with the other wrists, and
then he checks that the wire does not eat too deeply into the
flesh, such that the blood is still free to flow to the tips of
the fingers.
He walks in front of the girl. She looks at him, and she seems to
test the bonds that tie her to the bench. If she tried, her
attempts were futile. He looks at her wrists. From this point of
view, they seem nothing else than thin, shiny, sliver bracelets.
Silently, he goes on working, as if she is an inanimate object.
Carefully he pulls a little the coat’s sleeves, to cover the
wires: nobody can guess, without a careful inspection, that she
is not free. Then he unbuttons the coat. Even if she guessed that
this was going to happen, still she is blushing furiously. She is
thinking that she is naked under the coat and she is now helpless
for him to do as he pleases.
But he does not touches her naked flesh, just unbuttons the coat
and leaves it closed through the firmly secured belt. Finally he
parts the lower sides of it, such that the inner part of her
white thighs becomes visible, yet he does not open it so much
that the eye of a casual passerby might catch a glimpse of the
point where the thighs meet and the black hair of her pubis
grows.
However, she is immediately aware that the equilibrium by which
the coat covers her is precarious: a little distraction, a
careless movement, and the slides could slip and she could become
on display for anybody to see, her tied hands unable to protect
her.
He gets the suitcase and places it on the ground in between her
feet. It will be impossible now,  if she ever wants, to close the
legs. She will have to endure, for as long as he will decide, to
be accessible and vulnerable.
Holding the smaller suitcase he walks a little farther to look at
her.  Her face is still pink of shame; however, to the passerby,
she still might look like any other girl, resting on the bench,
maybe unwilling to stand up and face the day that starts, maybe a
little careless in the way is sitting.
He doesn’t say anything; if he is satisfied by his job and by her
docility he doesn’t betray. He just says: “Look at me.” She is
happy to comply, raises her eyes and looks at him, smiling. He
just says: “I have to piss.”
She did really hope not to be left alone, but she knows that she
cannot object. She sees him disappearing and remains there,
feeling the rays of the sun that slowly rises.
In the next minutes nothing happens. The park remains deserted;
she is left with her thoughts. Very simple thoughts: she is
contemplating the idea of trying again to test her restraints and
her possible degrees of freedom. But she is afraid that whatever
would happen could remain irreversible until he comes back. So
she chooses to stay as still as possible, waiting patiently for
his return. At a certain point she becomes aware of how her torso
is stretched, her breasts pushed against the coat and feels her
little, pointy nipples brushing against the slightly rough
fabric. For a moment she loses control of her breath – she is not
sure of what is happening – but quickly she regains her composure
and calms down.
She returns to be aware of the silence around her, then suddenly
she hears the noise of steps approaching, first very faint, then
closer. Together with regular, rhythmical steps, she can hear the
sound of more irregular movements, shaking the gravel of the
park’s foot walk.
Shame and fear mix in her head, she would like to scream, but she
knows that it would be an irrational, unjustified reaction,
what’s more, utterly silly.
If she shouts, she likes to think he will understand that she is
in serious danger and will come to rescue her. But then their
relationship, whatever the reason for it to be, would end and she
would never know where it would take her.
Remaining cool proves to be the right choice. It is only a little
dog, running aimlessly up and down. Few moments later his owner
comes. It is a woman only a few years older than her.
Probably every morning she takes her pet for a little walk before
going to work.
The dog, a furry little spaniel, white and brown, continues
searching for something, then he looks up to her owner and then,
reassured, continues exploring the surroundings.
The lady, elegant and perfectly groomed, hardly pays attention to
him. She is absorbed by her mobile phone, which she checks
continuously, typing quickly from time to time  emails or
messages.
The dog passes in front of the girl, without noticing her…but
then stops, returns on his steps and stands just in front of her,
looking at her curiously, with the head slightly tilted.
She looks at him, trying to read his mind, trying to send the
most reassuring message, hoping that he will continue his walk
and forget about her.
But, maybe challenged by her look, sensing something wrong, he
starts barking furiously.
The girl gets anxious: there is no reason to be afraid of this
little dog; the owner is there ready to take charge if anything
shall happen. Still she starts imagining things, she imagines
that he might try to assault her, that he might scratch her
thighs with his claws.
Distracted by the idea of this threat, she has a small,
imperceptible movement, an automatic reaction with the purpose of
protecting herself.
It is already late when she realizes that the coat has opened a
little more between the legs, and looking down she can see that
she has uncovered a large portion of the dark hair on her pubis,
for anybody to see.
She tries to close her legs, but the suitcase blocks any useful
movement, actually the simple trial achieves the unwanted result
to help the coat slip further down her thighs.
In the meanwhile the dog keeps looking and barking, until he
achieves the result of distracting her owner from her phone.
She comes, half hurrying, half annoyed”What is it?” then she sees
her and adds:” Excuse me, he is adorable, but he is a little…”
here she stops, because she has finally taken a good look at her
and she understands that what has called her dog’s attention is
an half-naked girl, dressed apparently only in a blue raincoat,
showing casually her private parts.
Now she thinks that her dog’s reactions are more than right, his
surprise, expressed by his barking, quite natural.
The two women look at each other, the bond girl cannot help
blushing and hopes in a little sympathy, even if it is too
complicated to explain what got her in this predicament, still
she hopes that the dog owner will understand her , help
readjusting the coat and leave.
The dog owner gets closer to her dog and put the leash on him.
Then, leading the dog, come close to inspect her.
“It is a beautiful morning.”
“Yes it is”., replies the bond girl.
“Do you live around here?”
“Not really..”
“Otherwise I should have noticed you before, I guess…” comments
the dog owner, smiling.
“It seems that I am not the only one to take out my pet in the
morning…where is your owner?”
She understands now that the lady will not help her, actually she
is enjoying her humiliation.
“I am nobody’s pet and I have no owner…” she replies, indignant.
“Of course…then you are alone…but you are perfectly fine, right?”
“I am.” She says, hoping that by now she has satisfied her
curiosity and will leave her alone.  But this woman seems ready
to play a larger role in this story, and she is not ready to go
so easily.  She gets closer; the dog is silent now, stares at the
girl  with his large, humid eyes The   woman now gets so close
that she stands now in between her parted legs.
“I don’t know why you are so shy” the woman says suddenly,
opening the coat wide with both hands, uncovering her breasts,
her belly and the carefully trimmed hair of her sex.
Now the blue belt is just a marker sign, separating the upper and
the lower part of her body.
“Maybe you needed help … or maybe you are ashamed of your little
boobs and tiny” she adds, maliciously, pinching the dark  nipples
with the tip of her fingers.
It is a small but sharp pain, she is used to endure much more.
The woman releases her grip and of course the nipples remain
standing, caressed by light breeze that keeps them  awaken.
“Open your pussy for me, I need to see.” The woman says. “Only
another woman can really look and appreciate the fine details and
differences, the beauty of it ” she adds.
The girl looks at her, suddenly unsure if she will meet the
woman’s expectations.  It is clear that is a woman different from
her, used to give order, to say no. She speaks in a way that
makes her eager to please.
She starts to open her legs, slowly. The woman just looks and
says.:”Yes…a little more…”   She can feel her body opening, she
can feel rivulets of air insinuating in her lower little mouth.
She wonders if the woman will like her and will be satisfied.
“It is like if the petals of a flower are unfolding” the woman
says smiling, and the girl actually feels the outer lips
blooming. She focuses on this delicious feeling and closes her
eyes to enjoy even more that sensation. In that very moment she
hears a click. She opens her eyes and, sure enough, the woman is
pointing her phone to her inner parts and snapping pictures.
The girl is shocked by this violation of privacy and trust.
“It is better if you smile, you will appear less pathetic” the
woman says coldly.
The girl cannot help looking at the camera, she cannot hide, and
she cannot control her expression, maybe the curves of her lips
will be read as a smile, maybe she will look like a shameless
slut, a proud woman, or really just a pathetic pet girl.
But the dog owner does not feel she owes her even to share the
pictures she stole. After a few further shots of her full figure,
she returns to insist at the details of her exposed sex, of her
exposed breasts.
Then, suddenly she looks at her watch.
“I guess it’s time to go. You have made my day…interesting.”
She turns when she is almost at the park’s exit and snaps a few
other shots. It is like she wants to keep the idea of where and
how she found her, the bench, the trees, and the gravel.
Then the woman starts to play with the phone, the girl realizes
that the pictures will not be confined to her phone and her eyes,
but she is sharing them with her lover, or maybe even with her
friends. When they will meet, they will look at them together and
they will laugh of that silly exhibitionist of the park.
But now she is alone again. The wait is unbearable. She looks at
her exposed body, now very little is hidden. She looks at the
tense muscles of her stomach. The sun is warmer now, she feels it
caressing her naked skin, like a hand following her curves.
She looks around. She understands that is getting later than she
expected. She starts being truly afraid that the next person
might not be as detached as the dog owner. She does not
understand why he is not back.
She still thinks that in any case she will be safe, that if
anything bad is going to happen, he will come and rescue her.
Yet, they never discussed such a possibility and they do not have
an agreement even on what it should happen next.
Maybe he has decided to abandon her here, as an unwanted cat,
until somebody will come and will decide, in the best case, to
free her.
Actually it is taking too long for a simple pee. Now she start
thinking that she might be late at work, or will not be able to
show up, and that she will need to inform her boss. Inwardly she
laughs thinking that she could simply say:” I spent the morning
naked tied to a bench in a park, not too far from the office.”
The comic interlude is short, she goes back to feel the silence
and the solitude. The quietness of this park starts to feel
eerie.
She reclines her head and closes her eyes. She might just try to
sleep and forget everything, maybe she will wake up and this is
just a dream.
With the eyes closed, of course the sounds become more intense.
Far away, at the very periphery of her hearing, she perceives the
sound of a quiet movement that remains there, for a while, until
she realizes that is moving slowly toward her.
She opens her eyes: it’s him, walking slowly toward her.
She sighs with relief.
“Sorry – he is actually smiling – I found an interesting tree and
I could not resist preparing it for later. Anything interesting
happened here? I see you could not resist flashing your pussy…”
The smile has turned into an ironic smirk – she would like to
protest, make it clear that she wanted to resist but could not,
but all she can say is:” A woman with a dog passed by and took a
few pictures…”
“By now you should be famous in the internet then – he insists,
with the same ironic tone – but now we have to go, we are running
out of time.”
He walks behind her, unties the steel wires from the rails, but
he binds them together, such that she remains handcuffed with the
hands on her back.
He makes her stand and without notice starts walking quickly
toward the side of the park, where he came from,  where the
vegetation is thicker. She has no better choice that following
sheepishly, while he doesn’t bother looking to check if she is
behind him.   Of course he doesn’t mind that the dog owner has
left her disheveled; he has left her with the open coat and now
she has to hurry clumsily behind him, the breasts bouncing, the
equilibrium made unstable by hands tied on the back, by the high
heels.
She starts wondering what he meant by preparing a tree, but this
become clear when they reach the broad pine, partially covered by
the bush. Multiple loops of a thick rope are secured at mid
height through the trunk.
The man takes the coat with her docile help, folds it and put it
on a patch of grass. She looks around, timidly, she is aware
that, apart from the shoes, her white, slightly opaque body is
fully exposed in a little park in central Tokyo. She looks
intently at the apartment blocks around and wonders if the
windows are far enough or if somebody is peeping at her behind
them.
Now the man unties her and secures the hands to the tree,
suspended at the sides of her head, such that she is facing it
and offers him her back.
He takes advantage of her white buttocks:  she reads, in the
hands that explore the softness of her skin and the roundness of
her curves, his desire. She is proud of  her small, yet high and
firm ass.
Then, he kneels at her feet and secures loosely one end of a
steel wire to the left ankle and the other end to right one.  The
ankles are not firmly tight together, but a certain length of the
wire has been left, such that, if she tries to close her legs,
the half rigid wire will oppose a certain resistance, similar to
a spring.
He takes a white handkerchief from his pocket, folds it and
places it in her mouth, such that she can bite it.
“You will need this. We don’t want to make a scene and draw
unwanted attention.”
She nods, can she escape now? She is his willing victim.  All
that she knows is that she will be whipped, beaten or slapped, as
long and as hard as it pleases him.
It is will be the latest test of her endurance; she wishes will
not be the last.
What he will be using this time? He is exactly behind her,
invisible, she tries to turn her head, but this does not help.
She hears a whirl in the air, a compact, buzzing sound. She knows
he has swung his weapon of choice.
Then, while she is tense by the expectation, the blow arrives and
strikes a large portion of her right buttock.
She understands it might be a stick or a paddle, covered by
rubber, such that it adheres perfectly to her skin for a short
excruciating moment.
Her guess is close: actually is a common table-tennis racquet
whose surface has a royal blue coating.
The blows arrive, one after the other. The first ones land
casually, with medium strength, yet they make the ass crimson
red.
Initially she tries to take them bravely, she tries to deny the
pain, focusing on the fact that she knows that this ordeal will
be over.
But suddenly the strength of the blows increases,  the hitting
becomes more methodic, starting from the upper quarter of her
right buttock, then to the left, and then going to the lower
quarters,  continuing relentlessly,  until he is satisfied and
pauses for a very short moment, before setting to the next task.
It seems that he has an aim in his job, and indeed her ass in now
almost uniformly becoming a dark purple.
He focuses on the few remaining spots where the flesh maintains a
pinker colour, addressing new strong, inexorable blows to these
parts.
She cannot hold back the tears. She is grateful now for the
handkerchief, that she is biting, almost chewing, such that is
has become soaked with her saliva.
He stops and grabs the left cheek, spreading the flesh around her
rear entrance, still white, until it does not crease and turn
brownish around her anus; an area which   the plump shape of her
bottom has protected.
Of course he does not stop.  With accurate strokes he hits also
here, until he feels that his job his complete and stops.
“Your ass is beautiful” he admits. She is relieved now – it was
not as bad as she thought. She has handled herself well.
She releases the tension in her body and the pain of course does
not go away, but reaches her center, soaks her completely and
makes her feel alive.
It is when she savors this sensation that the new blow arrives,
intense and precise like the sting of a very poisonous wasp.
She has no time to think or react: new blows arrive, quickly, one
after the other, in rapid succession.
She thought that everything was over, she is not ready for this,
if not for the handkerchief she would be shouting. The legs move
frantically trying to escape the blows, but the crude way her
legs are bound together make her attempts futile, if not silly.
She can feel her flesh being cut, the smell of her blood slowly
penetrating the air.
The whip made of coiled steel wires that he is using has maximum
effect now on her ass, made tender and vulnerable by the table
tennis racquet.   Her face is a mask of sweat.
But this time also the end comes, and this time is for good.
He let her rest for a while.  When he feels that her breath has
become more regular, she takes the handkerchief, unties the feet,
the hands, and covers her with the blue raincoat.
They head for the public toilet building and she follows him in
the male section. Luckily it is empty and sparking clean. He
takes the coat again, asks her to put the hands on the sink and
puts delicately the hands at her waist, pushing her ass high.
He unzip his trousers and she feels his penis brushing her back.
It is time for his retribution after the hard job. He looks at
the dark entrance at the back and to the glistening pink lips
which hide the front entrance. He smells the sweet fragrance of
her womanhood and cannot resist.
He puts a condom and slides his cock inside. The creamy fluid of
her excitement seems overflow her pussy.
The thrusts are quick and effective: no need to hold back. She
breathes quickly, the body restrained but her mouth unable to
control her moans. In a few minutes he has come inside her. For a
while he covers her body with his, remaining inside, until his
pleasure subsides. She would like to have him inside her forever.
He slides out, unfolds the condom, she kneels and cleans him with
her lips, while he caresses her hair.
She stands, he says: “I have to leave now.”
Of course. They have nothing else to share, nothing else to say.
He waves goodbye and she is alone. She turns her back to the
mirror and look at her ass. It is an ample red globe,
crisscrossed by the open cuts of the final whipping, stretched
flesh which releases blood droplets , spread unevenly but
abundantly on the whole surface. The dog owner is not alone in
liking memory pictures.  It is her turn now.
She cleans herself  roughly, drying with the paper towels of the
automatic distributor such that, when she leaves, it will not be
too obvious her status of distress.
She takes the racquet and the whip, dirty of her sweat and her
blood, and put them back in the bag, taking mental notice that
she will have to wash them.
She wears the raincoat back on her nude body and leaves with the
black suitcase, just when an old man, surprised by her presence,
is entering the toilet building.

They will not be able to meet for many days. The intensity of the
whipping will require many days to heal.
She will go to work, every day and whenever she sits, she will be
reminded of the harsh usage the man did of her body.  Not only,
every day, in the morning and in the evening , she will take
picture of her exploited buttocks, which she will post to him, as
a remainder of his presence on her body.

In the study room, on the last floor of the small detached house
where he lives,  he is working with his computer, restless. The
mail he is waiting for arrives, he opens it, the picture of the
naked whipped ass covers the full screen.
He feels the restlessness resolved, his penis becomes stiff, his
eyes wander of the minute details of the flesh displayed in front
of him.
He owns that body, and he treats it as capriciously as he wants.
Yet something escapes him. That body owns him, because more she
abandons herself to him, more her blind trust traps him.
He cannot hold her, whispering sweet words, but he needs to
violate her body, to penetrate her holes without mercy, such that
he pushes her away as far as possible , such that he gets a short
moment of release from his addiction.

One day a photo will arrive on the monitor where  the skin will
be white and unblemished. He will know that she has healed, that
she badly needs  him, and that they are ready to meet again.