Amanda Returns for Another Massage

As Amanda became painfully aware the next day, the toll which Yoko's massage had taken on her body was considerable.
When she woke and attempted to rise, the muscles in Amanda's lower body, particularly those in her region of her belly,
pelvis, and inner legs, protested and insisted on reminding her of the duress to which Yoko had subjected them. She had
assumed that her bowels would take several days to recover from their stretching, but, much to her surprise, it was her
muscles not her bowels which were demanding her attention. Indeed, as she now realized, from the moment that Yoko
began working on her, these muscles had been required to endure essentially continuous strain, first while her legs were
splayed to give Yoko unobstructed access to her groin and then while, tightly curled in a fetal position, she danced at the
end of the pole with which Yoko controlled the bulb filling her rectum. At the time, she had been too excited to know what
a heavy tax her body had been paying for its pleasure, but she did now.

When Amanda reviewed in her mind what had been done to her during the time she spent on the Yoko's table, she immediately
understood that her thighs and groin had cause to be sore. However, it took her longer to comprehend why the muscles in her
lower belly felt the way they did. Only after she began rubbing them did she begin to fully appreciate just how rigorous, albeit
subtle, a workout Yoko's bulb had given them. Indeed, as her fingers explored their surface, she realized what a crucial role her
abdominal muscles had played in enabling her body to accommodate the manipulation of her uterus and other internal organs
by the bulb embedded in their midst, not unlike the role they would have been playing had she been giving birth. Amanda found
these musing simultaneously disturbing and intriguing. On the one hand, it disturbed her that she had given Yoko such mastery
over the most intimate parts of her anatomy. On the other hand, she could not deny that much of the excitement she had experienced
derived from the knowledge that she had abandoned control over her own body and ceded it to Yoko. Thus, when Amanda finally
rose and headed to the bathroom, she was still conflicted, but she was no longer in any doubt about the source of the soreness in
her legs and stomach.

Several days past before either of us mentioned Amanda's massage. Knowing that she was still struggling to resolve
her own ambiguous feelings about the experience, I did not want to broach the subject and was content to have her bring it up
when she was ready. Nonetheless, although she did not talk about it, I noticed a change in Amanda's behavior, particularly when
we were having sex together. Specifically, she exhibited a level of abandon which she had not shown before. In the past, she
had been more reticent and passive, but now she openly expressed her passion, both verbally and physically. For instance, as
she approached orgasm, she brought her whole body into the act, wrapping her legs around me to draw me deeper into her body
and emitting moans of satisfaction when she felt me stretching her vagina and pressing against her cervix. She had always enjoyed
sex, but she had previously been much more reserved about the pleasure it gave her. I attributed this change to our visit with Yoko
and was anxious to learn whether she recognized and appreciated her own transformation. Thus, I was pleased when, one evening
during dinner, Amanda brought up the topic. "You know, I have been thinking a lot about my massage. Indeed, it was a life altering
experience. In particular, I never before realized that essentially every part of the female body is susceptible to sexual stimulation.
Before Yoko suspended my legs and strummed on the tendons in my groin, I would not have guessed that such treatment would be
tolerable, much less pleasurable. Even more surprising to me was the intense pleasure I got from her manipulation of the bulb inside
me. You have never entered me that way, and I never thought that I would want you or anyone else to try. However, Yoko seems to
have cast a spell over me, a spell which, at the same time, anesthetized and opened my mind. Normally, I would have rebelled had
someone first introduced a bulb into my bowels and then used it to massage all the organs in the vicinity, but somehow, although
I was keenly aware of what she was doing and knew that I should make her stop, I discovered that I was wrong and that what I really
wanted was for her to continue. In some ways strangest of all is that, in spite of my embarrassment at the time and the residual
discomfort which I suffered later in my lower body, I would like to have her work on my body again. She said that she had other
experiences to which she would enjoy introducing me, and I find myself increasing curious to find out what they are."

Taken aback by the abruptness and directness with which she had made her thoughts known, I was not prepared to respond immediately.
I wanted to be just as honest and direct as she had been, but I had reservations about divulging thoughts and emotions which, up to then,
I had hidden from her. "Amanda, you surely are aware that your experience made an enormous impression on me as well. Of course, it
was your body which bore the brunt of Yoko's attention, but being a witness to what she did to it was as emotionally trying for me as
it was for you. Watching her assume such total control over your body and seeing you so readily acquiesce altered my relationship to
the body which I had come to think you would share with only me. I won't deny that I enjoyed watching the contortions which she made
you perform or that I was not sexually excited by the positions she made your body take and the manipulation to which she subjected it.
I doubt if you know just how beautiful and seductive you looked while you danced to her tune. On the other hand, I will not pretend that,
as exciting as it was, I was not jealous of her mastery over you. It injured my male pride to realize that someone else, and a woman at that,
is capable of providing you sexual pleasures which I cannot."

Clearly touched by my revelation, Amanda leaned across the table, took my hands in her own, and said "You and your male pride.
Why should one limit ones sexual gratification to a single source any more than one limits ones intellectual gratification to a single
source? You enjoy reading and you enjoy movies, and you see no conflict between these activities. I agree that sex is different and
appreciate that there are important reasons to practice fidelity to ones spouse. That's part of the cement which holds a family together.
However, what happens in Yoko's studio has nothing to do with procreation or family. There is no rational reason for you to be insulted
or jealous just because I enjoyed putting my body in her hands and would like to do so again. I'm not going to abandon you for her!
All that I want is to experience what she has to offer me. I'm sure that you have noticed changes which she has already effected in
my sexual behavior and appreciate the concomitant expansion of my sexual horizons. So why shouldn't both of us want to have her
continue? Of course, I will not go back to Yoko over your objections. Our relationship is far more important to me than anything she
can offer me, and I won't jeopardize it for mere sexual gratification. On the other hand, I see no reason for you to think that my
relationship to you might be endangered by my relationship to her."

A primary reason why I married Amanda is her intellectual honesty and her willingness to confront issues head on. However, I had
not realized that her sophistication extended into the realm of sexual matters. In fact, I had thought that was the one area into which
she was disinclined to delve intellectually. Heretofore, sex had been an activity in which she readily indulged but did not discuss.
Now, for the first time, I could see that, if anything, her ideas about sex were more liberated and deeper than my own. She clearly
understood the distinction between its biological and social function in propagating the species and its secondary function as a source
of pleasure having nothing to do with procreation. Further, I could see that the only reasons for my not agreeing with her were vestiges
of conventionally accepted verities whose validity was no longer as obvious as it once thought to be. In other words, there was no way
for me to object to her plan other than admitting to myself and her that I had failed to liberate myself from inhibitions acquired from
my parents. In addition, I too was intrigued by Yoko's parting words and excited by the prospect of learning their portent. Thus, after
regaining my composure, I said "You are right. It is foolish of me to fear that our relationship is endangered by what goes on at Yoko's
studio, and, seeing as it was I who made the original suggestion, it would be unfair of me to allow my fear to deny you an experience
which you obviously crave. Tomorrow you should call Yoko and set up an another appointment."

When I returned from work the following evening, I found Amanda sitting bolt upright, and completely naked, on the rug in the middle
of our living room. With her eyes half closed, she seemed to be a trance. On closer examination, I realized that she was practicing yoga
and that she was in a classic lotus position with her legs crossed, her feet tucked in the crease between her upper and lower legs, and her
hands turned up and resting own her thighs. Once I had recovered from my initial surprise, I could not but appreciate how peaceful and
lovely she looked, and, except for the rigidity of her posture, how totally relaxed she appeared to be. Thus, not wanting to disturb her,
I sat down on a chair facing her and drank in the image she was presenting. With each intake of breath, her breasts rose and her tummy
rounded into a beautifully contoured bowl, which would flatten as she exhaled. Otherwise, she remained absolutely still. After continuing
for another ten minutes, breathing deeply in slow, measured breaths, Amanda began to emerge from her self-induced trance and at last
acknowledged my presence. Smiling at me, she said "You're wondering what's going on. Well, I called Yoko this morning and made an
appointment for next Saturday, again starting at 9. In addition to the dietary restrictions which she prescribed for me last time, she gave
me instructions which, to the extent that I follow them, will increase the receptivity of my body to what she has planned for it. Between
now and Saturday, she wants me to spend half an hour each day practicing yoga exercises. For this purpose, she had me drop by on my
way home to pick up a device which she recommends my using to improve my posture and muscle tone. As you probably noticed, my
posture is better than normal. That's because I am sitting with a rather long dildo embedded inside me. The dildo consists of a shaft
mounted on a circular plate, which is hidden beneath me. Before assuming this lotus position, I slowly lowered myself onto the shaft.
Due to the size of the shaft, it took me some time to get the whole thing inside me, and, at first, after I had it inside, I was sure that
I wouldn't be able to keep it there for half an hour, especially with my legs crossed so that my entire weight would bear down on the
shaft stretching my vagina and pressing against my cervix. However, after several uncomfortable minutes, I felt my uterus shift to
accommodate the intrusion, and when this occurred, the discomfort was replaced by a exquisitely satisfying feeling of fullness. Even
though I have been completely still, waves of sensation have been radiating throughout my lower body. At the same time, because
my uterus is being pushed up and seems to be pressing against my diaphragm, I have to monitor my breathing very carefully, in precisely
the way that one is supposed to when doing yoga. As a consequence, this has been my most successful attempt to achieve the benefits
which yoga is designed to give."

Once again I was staggered by Amanda's transformation. Before our visit to Yoko's salon, she would have never spoken, especially with
such equanimity, about having a dildo lodged inside her vagina and the effect it was having on her body. In fact, I cannot imagine her
former self ever willingly allowing one inside her body. But there she was, calmly extricating herself from the pedestal on which she
had spent the last half hour and talking about her intention to repeat this exercise on each of the two days remaining before our
appointment with Yoko. It was obvious, both from the ease with which she was able to remove the dildo and the flush of color which
had spread over her naked body, that she was in a state of considerable sexual excitement. However, she gently refused my invitation
to finish the job which the dildo had begun, saying that Yoko thought it best for her to conserve her sexual energy. Somewhat petulantly,
I said, "You mean that she wants you to be abstinent until after your massage? That seems a little unfair, particularly if I am going to be
treated each day to a display of the sort I was today." Coming over to my chair and leaning forward so that her breasts hung like ripe
fruit before my eyes, Amanda coquettishly answered "Yes, that's exactly what she wants. This time, both of us are going to suffer a little,
but imagine our eventual reward!" Mildly annoyed by her smug tone but enchanted nonetheless, I responded "O.K., if that's the way its
going to be, then I insist that you let me take my revenge by making you regret your vow of chastity. If you agree to those terms, place
your hands on the arms of this chair, spread your legs a little, and keep your breasts available to me." Apparently accepting my deal,
Amanda moved her legs so that they straddled my knees and hunched her shoulders so that her breasts swayed enticingly just inches
from my face. Reaching one hand into the juncture at her crotch and the other to the cones of her hanging breasts, I enlisted all my
skills to bring her to the threshold of orgasm. Using one hand to alternately set her breasts in motion by tapping on their sides and
arrest their motion by pulling gently on her erect nipples and simultaneously using the fingers of other hand to delve into the warm
valley between her labia and stroke her clitoris, my efforts were quickly rewarded. Soon after I began, Amanda was unable to remain still:
throwing back her head and rotating her hips in sensual circles. For a while, the only sounds she made were increasingly audible sighs.
However, as her excitement grew, her frustration overwhelmed her and her sighs turned to pleas that I stop torturing her. When I sensed
that she could stand no more, I abruptly stopped and, with a sly smile of satisfaction, pushed her away, saying "I do not want to be
responsible for you disobeying Yoko's instructions." Then, putting my hands on her hips and turning her until she was facing away
from me, I gave her a slap on the rear and said "Perhaps you should take the advise usually given to men in your state. That is, go and
take a cold shower."

The tension grew over the next couple of days. Returning each day to find Amanda perched on her dildo, I found it increasingly difficult
to release my own frustration by simply exacerbating hers. Thus, by Saturday morning, both of us were relieved that the waiting was over.
However, confronted by the reality of putting her body back into Yoko's hands, I could tell that Amanda's relief was tinged with something
approaching fear as she prepared for her appointment. Although she bravely tried to hide her fears, it was clear that she was remembering
her previous visit to Yoko and the demands, both physical and psychological, which it had made on her. Nonetheless, in spite of her
reservations, she never considered the option of canceling her appointment, and so, at 8:30 sharp, we headed out the door on our way to
Yoko's salon. Once again, Yoko met us at the door and ushered us into her studio.

After closing the door, she positioned Amanda in front of her and immediately began removing Amanda's clothes. When Amanda was
down to her panties, Yoko took a step back to scrutinize the body revealed before her. Running a hand over Amanda's front, Yoko patted
Amanda's firm tummy and said "I am pleased to see that you have followed my instructions. Your posture has improved and your tummy
has firmed." Then, taking a step forward and probing with her fingers through the thin material covering Amanda's stomach, Yoko
continued "On your last visit, I appreciated these subtle curves and the charming bulge just below your navel, both of which have been
enhanced by your yoga exercises. Today I plan to reward you for your efforts and will concentrate on this lovely belly of yours. At times
this will entail your tummy having to perform in ways which you will find difficult to bear. However, just as I did last time, I assure you
that the pleasure you will derive will more than compensate for whatever you suffer. In the process, I hope to teach you to regard your
stomach as a potential source of erotic pleasure, one which you will want to have become an integral part of your sexual activity."
As an afterthought she added "I seldom have the opportunity to work on a body which is as well suited as yours for the joys I can bring it."
While she spoke, Yoko continued her intimate exploration of the region about which she was talking, but Amanda never objected, having,
as she had on our previous visit, fallen under the Yoko's spell. When Yoko was finished, she took Amanda's hand and led her to the door
behind which waited the tub in which she would prepare Amanda's body for its sensual ordeal.

They remained in the tub room for slightly more than twenty minutes. Aside from the occasional sound of splashing water, I heard nothing
to indicate what transpired during their absence. I only knew that, as distinguished from the last time, Amanda voiced no complaint about
whatever liberties Yoko was taking, and, just as last time, when they reappeared, I was struck by the contrast between Amanda's glowingly
pink and generously feminine nakedness and Yoko's scantily clad, trim, nearly boyish, figure. Guiding Amanda to the massage table, on
which she had placed a padded mat, Yoko asked Amanda to lie flat on her front, with her arms folded and her chin resting on her hands.
Yoko then hopped up onto the table herself, straddled Amanda's prone body, and reached over her head to grasp a bar which was suspended
from a short chain attached to a track in the ceiling. Grasping the bar with both hands, Yoko placed her left foot smack in the middle of
Amanda's upturned rump and explained "Amanda, I am going to use a Japanese massage technique in which the role usually played by the
masseuse's hands is played by her feet. Obviously, the pressure that be exerted with ones feet is significantly greater than that which is
possible with ones hands. Thus, only an expert should attempt to administer such a massage. To accustom you to the technique, I will
begin by working on your gluteal muscles. When I put my weight on them, they may complain a little. However, I am confident that they
will soon learn to accommodate my weight and that you will then feel only a pleasant burning sensation as I continue manipulating them."

Having told Amanda what to expect, Yoko shifted her weight to her left foot and stepped onto the rounded surface of Amanda's buttock.
Once she was up, Yoko used her hands on the bar above head to simultaneously steady herself and modulate the pressure she was bringing
to bear on Amanda's rump. Then, after she had familiarized herself with the terrain, Yoko subjected each and every portion of Amanda's
bottom to a systematic massage, using her toes and heels to compress and knead the muscles under her feet. Initially, Amanda found it
difficult to stand what was being done to her behind. She grunted each time that Yoko changed positions, and it took a couple of minutes
before she experienced the pleasure which Yoko had predicted. When she did, she communicated her relief by lifting her head and, smiling
at the anxiety written on my face, told me that I had no need to be concerned, saying "My bottom has always been too large and now its
being forced to pay a price for its size. If Yoko keeps working it for long enough, it's going to be as flat as a pancake." Rocking back and
forth, Yoko continued for about ten minutes, occasionally moving her feet to the soft flesh at the top of Amanda's thighs and once briefly
delving with her toes into the moist warmth of her crotch. When she decided that Amanda's rear had had enough, she asked "Amanda, before
I turn you over, I am wondering whether you would give me permission to do something which I seldom do to my non-Asian clients. Namely,
as you probably know, Asian aesthetics are somewhat different from yours. In particular, breasts like yours are considered too large, and if
an Asian girl's breasts are as large as yours, they are bound to make them look smaller. Having had their breasts bound when they were young,
many of my Asian clients enjoy having me compress their breasts for them. The way I do so is to stand on their shoulder blades while they
are lying as you are now. My breasts are too small to have been ever bound, but my clients tell me that they get great pleasure from
compression of their breasts in this way. If you would like to give your breasts this experience, raise your chest high enough for your husband
to make sure that you will be lying with their undersides pressed against the mat and the bulk of their mass directly under you."

Lulled into a compliant state as she was, Amanda hesitated only a moment before signaling her assent by lifting her shoulders off the mat
and holding herself on her elbows while I reached beneath her to arrange her breasts in the way Yoko had prescribed and kept them in place
by holding onto her nipples when she lay back down. Rather than bulging from her sides, Amanda's breasts were trapped between her body
and the mat and were forced to act as a cushion for her upper chest. As soon as Amanda lowered her body, Yoko took a couple of steps
forward, balancing herself by sliding the bar along its track, and gingerly placed her feet squarely on Amanda's shoulder blades while
supporting the majority of her weight from the bar. Then, with great care, she increased the weight being born by Amanda's breasts
until they were bunched into a fleshy necklace around the rim of her collarbone. By rocking back and forth, Yoko pumped Amanda's
breasts, crushing them into the mat when she increased the weight on her toes and allowing them to swell when she shifted her weight
back onto her heels. Each time the Yoko forced her breasts to flatten, Amanda released a plaintiff grunt. Nonetheless, she resisted the
temptation to protect her breasts, and, when Yoko asked how they felt, she admitted "I never realized how malleable my breasts are.
Even though there is no way for them to escape the pressure you are putting on them, they are able to accommodate your weight. This
is the way that women must have felt in the old days when they wore corsets which enhanced their cleavage by pushing up on their
breasts." After pumping Amanda's breasts for several minutes, Yoko moved her feet further froward until her toes curled over Amanda's
shoulders and slowly applied increasing pressure, forcing Amanda's breasts even flatter. "Now that you have learned what it is like to
have your breasts bound, imagine having to wear a band around them under your clothes. In traditional Japan, you would be trained to
ignore your discomfort and give no indication of the sacrifice you were making to achieve the desired diminution of your bust.
You should be glad that you live in a society which appreciates the bounty of your natural assets."

Not wanting to try Amanda's endurance too long, Yoko stayed on Amanda's shoulders for less than five minutes before first putting her
feet back on the table and then jumping down to the floor. Exhausted, Amanda did not move while Yoko went to fetch a towel and a bottle
of oil. Returning to Amanda's side, Yoko poured a generous puddle of oil into the hollow along Amanda's spine, spread it with her hands,
and vigorously rubbed it into the receptive flesh on which she had been standing. When the oil had been completely absorbed into the
smooth skin covering Amanda's back, buttock, and shoulders, Yoko gave Amanda's succulent rear a friendly swat and told her to sit up.
Amanda's rise from the mat was accompanied by a distinct ripping sound as she broke the moist seal which had formed beneath her and
was gluing her to the mat, and once she had succeeded in disengaging herself and was seated on the table, she was confronted by further
evidence of the imposition which her time under Yoko's feet had made on the front of her body. Not only was there a mottled pattern
imprinted on her normally unblemished flesh, her usually pale breasts were a lived pink and the disks of her aereolae were visibly larger.
Amused by Amanda's look of distress, Yoko, in a mischievous tone, told her "Amanda, the discoloration of your skin is temporary.
Indeed, I promise you that your peaches and cream complexion will be restored during the next stage of your massage, and, in the
meantime I will hide your blemishes under a coat of powder."

Yoko then left us alone long enough to gather the equipment she would be using. In her brief absence, I made sure that Amanda still
wanted to proceed. To my inquiry she replied "Oh yes, I certainly do. You heard her say that my tummy was to be the center of attention,
and, even though I am a little afraid to find out what she meant, I have no intention of leaving before I found out." Yoko returned
carrying a can of talcum powder in her hand and a wide, elasticized band draped over her forearm. Placing the band on the table beside
Amanda, she sprinkled powder all over Amanda's front, spreading it with her hands from Amanda's throat to the junction of her thighs
and, after pushing Amanda's legs apart, into the region around her vulva. The powder did indeed mask the marks on Amanda's body and
left a pleasing dusty residue on her skin. When Yoko put the powder away, she asked Amanda to stand up on the table, had me climb up
to stand next to her, and then, with the band in hand, joined us herself.

"Amanda, I want you to grasp the bar above your hand. When you have a secure grip on it, I will raise it until you are standing on your
toes and your body is stretched taut. While you are fully stretched, your husband and I are going to wrap this band around the upper
portion of your torso. The whole process should take only a minute or so, but, as you will find out when you release the bar, your waist
will be severely compressed but the prominence your lower belly, and especially the rounded bulge below your navel, will be greatly
increased." After Amanda had a firm grip on the bar, Yoko pulled on a rope with which, because the mechanical advantage afforded
her by a pulley device, she was able to literally lift Amanda into the desired position. Hanging stretched between us, with her rib cage
and pelvic bones clearly delineated, Amanda could have been the model for a Bosch painting of a soul damned to purgatory. Thus,
Yoko and I waisted no time. Handing me one edge, Yoko asked me to hold it against the line of Amanda's spine while she exerted all
her strength to stretch the rest of it around Amanda's suspended body, securing it there by joining the velcro strip at her edge to the
one at mine. Working swiftly, Yoko adjusted the band so that it covered the area bounded above by Amanda's breasts and below by
her newly narrowed waist. Satisfied that it was properly placed, Yoko hugged Amanda around the hips and helped her get her feet firmly
planted back on the table.

Just as Yoko had predicted, Amanda's girdling had produced dramatic changes. What I found most striking was the stark contrast between
her severely restricted waist and the soft curve of her unencumbered tummy, which seemed to have grown to compensate for the reduction
which had been imposed on the region above it. From a purely aesthetic standpoint, I cannot say that the alteration in Amanda's figure
represented an improvement. On the contrary, her usually pleasing shape had been distorted into something of a parody of its former self:
her wasp-waist looked contrived and her tummy protruded. Nonetheless, from an erotic standpoint, her transformation was a total success.
Her face and body had the irresistibly vulnerable look of a medieval statue, one portraying the peaceful resignation of the Virgin to her fate.
Indeed, even as she struggled to adjust to the band impeding her breathing, she had a beatific smile on her face and her body assumed a relaxed
pose in which its new contours were displayed to their best advantage.

Running her hands over Amanda's distended belly, Yoko invited me to feel how firm and round it had become. When I did so, I was
surprised to find that its roundness belied the demands being made on Amanda's abdominal muscles. Just under their soft cover, those
muscles were hard as rock. Tracing with my fingers from Amanda's navel to her mons, I realized that the exaggerated curve of her tummy
was far from passive and its maintenance imposed an enormous tax on her abdomen. Seeing my surprise, Amanda smiled and said
"Yes, my corset prevents my stomach muscles, particularly those in my lower belly, from relaxing. They're going to be very sore by the
time this is over, but, in the meantime, it is very exciting to know they are no longer under my control and that they will have to continue
working until Yoko gives them permission."

Pleased by Amanda's response, Yoko said that it was time to begin and asked me to return to the floor. As soon as I did, Yoko helped
Amanda to lie down with her back flat on the mat. In that position, the shape of Amanda's tummy was even more pronounced, having
eclipsed her breasts and become the most prominent feature on her recumbent body. Standing with a foot on either side of Amanda's waist,
Yoko retrieved the bar and lowered it to its original height. Then, taking the bar in her hands, she placed one foot at the highest point on
Amanda's belly and slowly lifted the second foot so that her was standing on top of the little mountain which she had prepared with such
care. Having put at least half her weight on the bar, Yoko was exerting far less pressure than she might. Be that as it may, it was obvious
from the pained expression on Amanda's face that her stomach was suffering. Noting Amanda's distress, Yoko said "For the next ten minutes
I am going to use my feet to massage your belly. To do so properly, in a way that causes no harm, I will have to employ all my skills. During
their massage, your abdominal muscles will complain, and you may sometimes doubt that they are capable of satisfying the demands being
made upon them. Nonetheless, I assure you that they can and will make certain that they do. When I stop, you will experience a wonderful
sense of relief accompanied by a sense of pride in your accomplishment, an accomplishment which you won't fully appreciate until I reward
you for it. For now, simply keep your mind on your belly and what is being done to it."

As Amanda told me later, Yoko's words both scared and excited her. Her fear came from her concern that she would fail to meet Yoko's
expectations, and her excitement came from her realization that she had no choice. As the minutes ticked by, my admiration for both
women increased. Yoko exhibited amazing control over her lithe body as she carefully moved her feet over Amanda's stomach. At no
time did she put her full weight on Amanda, but she modulated the pressure she applied with diabolical cunning, never giving Amanda a
chance to relax and keeping her on the brink of collapse. For her part, Amanda's stoicism bordered on the incredible. Occasionally, she
simply closed her eyes and twisted her head back and forth. However, she was too fascinated to keep them shut for long, and most of the
time she kept them wide open, staring in disbelief at her persecuted tummy and its ability to endure that persecution. With just a couple
of minutes left, Yoko stopped moving and placed her feet together, centered on the bulge which she so much admired, and staring down
into Amanda's eyes said "There is just over a minute to go before I give your tummy the respite it craves. During that minute, I want you
to see if you can raise and lower me with your abdominal muscles." Calling on strength and resolve which I had not known she possessed,
Amanda bore down and slowly raised Yoko an inch or so before, equally slowly, lowering her. Her voice filled with admiration, Yoko
said "That was wonderful. I could feel your muscles massaging the bottoms of my feet as your stomach swelled and contracted. See if you
can do it again." Clearly exhausted but also elated by Yoko's admiration, Amanda once again mobilized the trembling muscles in her
abdomen and repeated her Herculean task.

As soon as Amanda had completed her assignment, Yoko stepped off her belly and hopped off the table. Back on the ground, she
immediately grabbed a towel and began wiping the sweat produced by Amanda's heroic efforts. By the time that Yoko had dried her
off, Amanda had recovered sufficiently to ask "You mentioned a reward for my efforts. Please understand that I am not sorry to have
had you make my stomach work in the way that you have, but, so far, my pleasure has been much more psychological than physical.
Allowing you to control my body gives me an intense, somewhat masochistic, thrill which I never experienced before coming to you.
On the other hand, although what you have been doing today stimulates my sexual imagination, it has not provided the physical pleasure
which you gave me last time. Is that physical pleasure to be my reward?"

Yoko answered "Amanda, you are a courageous woman and you have earned my greatest respect. Yes, I would very much like to give
you physical pleasure now. In fact, if you and your husband agree, during this final part of your massage today, I would like to reward
you by bringing you to orgasm. I have not finished yet with your tummy, but what I want to do with it next can be highly erotic,
especially when done while you are balanced on the brink of sexual gratification and preparing your body for orgasm. However, many
women have a strong aversion to the idea of another woman bringing them to orgasm, especially when it is done overtly and in the presence
of a man whom they love. I am not a Lesbian, but I greatly enjoy helping women achieve their full sexual potential. Nonetheless, I do not
want to offend either you or your husband by taking too many liberties without your explicit consent. Your behavior last time indicated
to me that, even if you have never done so before, you might be open to exploring what another woman can offer you sexually. I will not
be hurt if you say that I am wrong, but am I correct?"

Although both Amanda and I were stunned by the frankness of Yoko's statement, I think that my shock was greater than hers. After all,
since our arrival, she had been continuously in thrall to Yoko, and so being brought to orgasm by her seemed like a natural extension of
the control this woman had been exercising over her. I, in my role of witness to the proceedings, was far less well prepared. Thus, I was
grateful to Yoko for politely excusing herself so that Amanda and I could talk in private. Feeling that I was the injured party, I was the
first to speak. "Amanda, don't you understand the difference between what she is proposing and everything else that she has done?
Last time I was reconciled to her sticking that bulb up your ass only because she restricted it to being a prelude to your and my sexual
activity. That's entirely different from her being the one who satisfies your sexual hunger."

Amanda listened to me with sympathy but was not persuaded by my arguement. Choosing her words with care, she responded "You
still do not understand that sex is a completely normal and healthy activity. It has a particularly important role in the relationship
between husbands and wives, providing them with a pleasurable means to express their love for one another. But there are many
ways in which we manifest our love for one another. For example, I enjoy preparing nice meals for you and you enjoy eating them. I
also enjoy cooking for other people, not as an expression of love, but because it gives both me and them pleasure. Similarly, if I allow
Yoko to bring me to orgasm, it will not reflect one way or another on my love for you. It will be an entirely physical act, devoid of
emotional implications." Thinking about what she had just said, she then added "Of course, that is an overstatement. I did not mean
sound blase about sex by putting it on an equal footing with food. Instead, what I meant is that my receiving sexual gratification from
Yoko should pose no danger to your and my relationship because quite the opposite is the case. Instead, by allowing Yoko to bring me
to orgasm will demonstrate to me that sex is not the foundation on which our love is built but only an important part of it. What
intrigues and frightens me about her doing so is quite different. Namely, female orgasm entails total surrender, and the idea of making
that surrender to someone whom I neither love nor loves me is daunting. If I do, it will be and act of pure carnality, one of which I am
both curious and scared to learn whether I am capable."

Once again I was disarmed by the depth and sincerity of Amanda's thinking, and so, in spite of my reservations, I told her that I would
raise no objections. When Yoko returned, she brought with her a rolling a trolley bearing several pieces of equipment, the largest of
which was a bowling ball. After bringing the trolley to the side of the table on which Amanda lay, she asked whether we had reached
a decision. With some embarrassment, Amanda and I told her that we had agreed to grant her the permission which she had sought.
Clearly pleased by the confidence in her that our permission represented but understanding the awkwardness of the situation, Yoko
only responded with a nod before getting down to business. With one hand gently rubbing Amanda's belly and the other next to her head,
Yoko outlined her plan. "I know how hard these muscles have worked already and realize that even now they cannot relax entirely. Thus,
what I am going to do to you now will be far easier on them than what they have just endured. Instead of making you test their strength
again, I am going to require you to exercise very precise control over them, the same sort of subtle control which I had you practice
during your yoga exercises. Before beginning, I am going to attach to you a little device which will enhance your awareness of the region
in question."

Yoko then took from her trolley a narrow plastic belt in the middle of which was mounted a plug. Slipping one end through
the gap between Amanda's back and the mat, she positioned the plug directly over Amanda's belly button, pressed down so that it nearly
disappeared into Amanda's navel, and then secured it by pulling the free end through a small lock buckle. Returning to Amanda's head,
Yoko said "I think that you will learn to love this little toy and will give it to you as a souvenir to take home with you. It's function is to
keep you acutely aware of the your navel and its environs, and, as you are about to find out, it's effectiveness is greatly increased by having
something pressed against it. For example, some evening when you are going out, you might enjoy wearing this belt discreetly under your
blouse and, from time to time, having your husband press on it hard enough to send tingling sensations radiating throughout your lower body.
However, because I will occupied elsewhere, I am going to use this bowling ball to exert the pressure which I want to have maintained on your
navel, and you are going to be the one responsible for keeping it there. For this reason, I want you to bend your legs and bring your heels as
close to your buttock as you comfortably can."

When Amanda had complied, Yoko continued "Good. That deepens the hollow at your waist and creates a little crater for the ball to sit in.
Tell me how it feels when I have put it there." Immediately after the ball was placed on her tummy,

Amanda moaned and said, in a tremulous voice, "My God, it feels as if that plug were boring into my gut like some hungry beadle, making
my bladder, rectum, vagina, and everything else respond by contracting. It's not painful, in fact it's quite exciting, but it's not easy to bear!"

Apparently satisfied that she had produced the desired effect, Yoko said "Now Amanda it's your job to make sure that that ball stays where it
is. That will require you to maintain the hollow in your tummy by preventing your abdominal muscles from tightening. I will not distract
you until you think that you have mastered that control. When you tell me that you are ready, I will teach you how to achieve a completely
passive orgasm, one in which you body is simply a receptacle for the pleasure it is receiving. Because your body is programmed to move
in response to intense sexual stimulation, preventing it from doing so will require great discipline and will mean that your climax will
be delayed. However, when it comes, I hope that you will agree that it was worth the effort and the waiting."

Amanda spent several minutes accustoming herself to the presence of the ball on her belly. Compared to Yoko's weight, the ball seemed light,
and, as she quickly learned, the less she moved the less the plug bore into her navel. Feeling that she had achieved the requisite control over
her muscles and anxious to proceed, she turned to Yoko, smiled, and said "I'm ready for my lesson." Taking her cue, Yoko went to the opposite
end of the table, stopping long enough at the trolley to pick up an object which, under the circumstances, I assumed must be some sort of dildo.
She then lowered the panel on which Amanda's legs had been lying, and took up the same position as she had during our first visit.
Lowering both hands to Amanda's up-tilted crotch, she began by carefully brushing aside Amanda's pubic hair to expose the already pouting
mouth beneath, saying "You know, until I first did this, I never understood why botanical metaphors are used to describe a woman's vulva.
However, when the hair is moved aside, the reason becomes obvious. Like a flower, its shape and texture invite penetration into its core,
and that's exactly what I'm going to do. I have in my hand a dildo like the one I gave you the other day, only this one has a handle rather
than a stand at one end. When I spread the petals hiding your the entrance to your vagina, I will slowly slide this dildo all the way into
you, stopping when I feel it reach your cervix. Then, once it is embedded, I will use it to gently explore the silken walls of your vagina,
sometimes stretching them and occasionally pushing its head against your uterus."

Watching Yoko, I could tell that Amanda was more than ready for the invasion and that her waiting vagina swallowed its intruder with ease.
Instead, her problem was with the requirement to remain still. Each time that Yoko changed the position of the dildo, I could see the muscles
in Amanda's tummy clench under the ball resting on its center, and each time this happened, she let out a little gasp as the plug dug itself
deeper into her belly button. The effort required to discipline her body not to react was enormous, only equaled by the pleasure she was
experiencing. Raising her eyes to look me in the face, she whispered "I feel thoroughly impaled, in two ways at once. There is the delicious
impalement by the dildo and the less delicious one by the plug, and, strange to say, I can no longer really distinguish between them. At the
same time that the dido makes me disparate for relief, the plug prevents me from achieving relief. It's as if I were an insect pinned to a
board while somebody worries its most sensitive antennae. The difference is that, unlike the bug, I am free, but have no desire, to escape
my torment."

Looking at me through Amanda's raised legs, Yoko asked if I would like to participate. When I said that I would but that, under the
circumstances, my role was not clear to me, she suggested that I take Amanda's nipples in my fingers and apply just enough pressure
to gently mimic the pumping that her breasts had received earlier. Hearing Yoko's suggestion, Amanda cupped her breasts in her hands
to mold them into soft mounds available for my attention. Her nipples being already fully erect, it was easy for me to grab them and use
them to manipulate the breasts which they crowned. Alternately tugging them until her breasts were sharp cones and lowering them
until her breasts mushroomed on her ribcage, I was gratified to at last be playing a role, albeit minor, in Amanda's experience.

Time passed unrecorded, but, shortly after I began playing with her nipples, it became obvious that Amanda's sensuous torment could
not last much longer. Sweat covered her from head to toe, and her breath came in increasingly short gasps. When her climax arrived,
it enveloped her whole body at once, sending the bowling bowl flying and wrenching her breasts from my grasp as she abandoned all
semblance of discipline and allowed her body to convulse in the way it had been waiting to since Yoko began. It was not only Amanda's
discipline which was forgotten. Yoko, beaming from ear to ear, dropped her usual reserve and ran to Amanda's head, cradled it in her
hands, and kissed Amanda's exhausted face. "I told you that your effort would be rewarded, and now you know that I deliver on my promises.
No client has ever given me greater satisfaction than you have. Should you ever want to return, you will be most welcome." Then, resuming
her normal demeanor, she turned to me, bowed, and headed for the door. Just as she was leaving, she looked back at Amanda and said
"Don't forget, you are to take your belt home with you," to which Amanda replied, "No, I won't forget because I think that I will leave
it where it is when I dress. You never can predict what a husband will do in the back seat of a taxicab." If you enjoyed this story and have any ideas for other stories in this genre, please write to me at [email protected]