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Subject: {ASSM} (REV) Turning Japanese 3/3 by Rachael Ross (M+/F, F+/F, BDSM, Rom,  Kitchen Sink)
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Date: Sat, 03 Oct 2009 13:10:04 -0400
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Turning Japanese
Copyright 2009 Rachael Ross all rights reserved. Intended for Adults
of All Ages Licensed by Bound For Glory Productions in association with 
Severe Discipline Ltd.
Not packaged for individual sale - See End User Agreement for Export
Restrictions Photograph courtesy Jennifer Cassidy used with permission 
In Case of Emergency: rache696@yahoo.com   
http://www1.asstr.org/~rache/index.htm


===========================-+

Turning Japanese (Part 3)
by Rachael Ross


We took our leave of Mistress Kami's BDSM shop and walked several
blocks through the busy streets of Shibuya. It was sometime around
nine o'clock and most of the larger retail stores were closed, but we
passed a great many small bars and restaurants which would be open
until well after midnight. There were a lot of people around, a large
number of men who would stop for a drink or a bowl of ramen before
going home after a long day at the office. They openly stared at
Mistress Atsumi and I as we walked past them. The beautiful Japanese
Dominatrix in her black leather leading a blonde American on a leash.
I wanted to walk slowly because of the thick butt plug buried deep in
my ass, but my Mistress set the pace and I had no choice but to keep
up. I think she rather enjoyed it when I lagged behind as it gave the
woman an excuse to give the leash a sharp tug and humiliate me in
front of total strangers.

"Hurry up, slave! I don't care if your ass hurts," Mistress Atsumi
laughed as she pulled me along. "You move like a bitch in heat. Do you
need a cock, bitch?"

"N-No, Mistress," I said and the three men following us were chuckling
as they whispered amongst themselves.

They'd been following us closely for a block already, wondering how
much a whore like me would cost. They were deliberately vulgar and I
blushed at their juvenile talk, how they would fuck me and cum on my
face, for example. They were hardly imaginative, merely rude and I was
grateful that Mistress Atsumi ignored one of them when he tried to ask
her about me. But when he persisted, and I suspect he was more than
slightly drunk, she stopped.

"Open my purse," Mistress Atsumi told me. "Give him one of my business
cards."

"Yes, Mistress," I nodded and did as she told me.

"Come to the club sometime," Mistress Atsumi told all three of the
men. "That's where she works."

"What's her specialty?" one of the men asked, teasing me while his
friends laughed, but I was still wondering why Mistress Atsumi would
say I worked for her.

"This slave?" She smiled and reached out to touch my cheek with her
fingers. "She's a Milky Girl," Mistress Atsumi said and she suddenly
pushed her thumb into my mouth. My eyes went wide with surprise at her
words, but I kept my lips tight around the woman's thumb and sucked it
like a small cock while the men watched.

I wanted very much to talk with Mistress Atsumi. I had a lot of
questions and I was bewildered by some of her comments. I certainly
didn't work at her club in Yokohama. I worked for my company, the one
that had hired me right out of Harvard Business School. I'd spent six
hard years getting my MBA and I wasn't going to throw that away. As
soon as I could call my boss, the VP who'd disappeared with my purse
and clothes, I would be going back to work.

This had been fun, the experience of being Atsumi's slave was intense
and I wanted it to continue in the future. I wanted to learn more
about myself and what we were doing, but I understood that my career
had to be the most important thing. It was the reason I'd found myself
with Atsumi at all, really. I'd only come to her club because my boss
wanted me to entertain his guests. I'd already sacrificed so much for
my job. My self-respect, my dignity, all so I could get the highest
marks on my performance evaluations when my year was up and I could
return to the normalcy of corporate America.

But how did she know I was a Milky Girl? That bothered me as well. I'd
been called that by my co-workers, many of whom were convinced that I
had a genuine fetish for sperm, but how would this woman know about
that? I'd never met her before. Had my boss mentioned it while we'd
sat in the club waiting for the stage show to begin? He might have
said something to his two business associates and I suppose Mistress
Atsumi could have overheard him, but I didn't think so. I didn't
remember anything specific like that, but then again, I'd hardly been
paying attention anyway. Unfortunately, in Japan a woman's place is on
her knees and while I was with those three men they had treated me as
little more than office furniture. No, I didn't understand at all how
the woman had known I was a Milky Girl and it bothered me.

I was unable to find the courage to ask Mistress Atsumi my questions,
however, and so I suffered them in silence as I followed her into a
nondescript office building. It was a long, but very narrow building
and unremarkable in any way, but in Tokyo it's impossible to predict
what you will find inside any given structure. I wouldn't have been
surprised to find public baths, a five star restaurant, or a porn
theater at the end of our journey. Believe, anything was possible and
all I knew for sure was that Atsumi told me we were going to the fifth
floor.

There was an elevator, but we took the stairs, largely so I could
enjoy the effects those 108 steps had on the plug in my ass and the
extremely arched shoes on my feet. It was a slow torture and very
subtle in design, I thought. I could feel Jun's sperm in my ass,
moving fluidly around the plastic that stretched me so thoroughly. It
was not entirely unpleasant, but my calves burned by the time we were
done climbing. I was out of breath too and I reminded myself to get to
the gym more often.

The place Mistress Atsumi was bringing me turned out to be a body
modification shop, primarily for piercing it seemed, although it was
apparent that branding and tattooing were also available. There were
large display cases with all forms of rings, bars, and oddly shaped
metal devices designed to penetrate, stretch, or compress the flesh.
On the walls were photographs, large and small, in color and black and
white, of actual piercing, brandings, and tattoos. I had never been in
such a place in my life and I swallowed nervously, wondering why we
were here, but instinctively knowing it was for my benefit.

The man who owned the place was older, with long white hair and a
somewhat darker, grayish beard. I found that slightly strange for the
Japanese generally have little regard for facial hair, at least the
men I knew. He was slight in stature and dressed normally enough in a
short sleeved shirt and dark trousers. It was quickly obvious to me
that he knew Mistress Atsumi very well. My Mistress bowed low before
him briefly and this surprised me so much that I did not move at all.

"She is American?" he asked immediately, not bothering with even the
most rudimentary greetings. This again surprised me, as polite and
proper greetings are a cultural institution for the most part.

"Yes," Mistress Atsumi said and gave me a sharp glance.

I regained my senses then and bowed at once to the man, able to ignore
the protesting discomfort in my ass. I bent at the waist as low as
possible, knowing I had to show as much or more respect to this man
than Atsumi had. I held my bow until I heard him speak again, perhaps
ten seconds later. It seemed a very long time.

"Does she speak Japanese?" he wondered and I had the impression he'd
never seen an American before, ridiculous as that may sound.

"It's passable, she's still learning," Mistress Atsumi replied as I
straightened up again. "Slave, greet this man. His name is Keiyu."

I kept my eyes properly lowered and spoke as well as I knew how.
"Master Keiyu, it is an honor for this humble slave to be in your
presence." I frowned as I knew at once that my pronunciation of
several words had been flawed. "I...I beg your patience for my ignorant
tongue."

The man laughed happily and clapped his hands, as if he'd just
witnessed a trained seal bouncing a ball on it's nose. It seemed very
impolite of him to mock me that way, I thought. I wondered then if
Mistress Atsumi was equally displeased, but I didn't dare to look. I
merely closed my eyes tightly instead and felt my eyes growing moist
above my hot cheeks. I found the entire episode very humiliating.

"You will always surprise me, Atsumi!" the man chortled. "But it's
good to see you so happy again. It's been too long since I've seen
you, daughter."

Daughter? I almost looked up in surprise. I didn't know if he'd used
the word literally or figuratively. Daughter wasn't a term of
familiarity that I'd heard in common use. I thought it must be the
truth and the idea of being presented in this fashion to Mistress
Atsumi's father was almost distressing to me. There was no practical
experience I could draw upon to give their relationship context. My
own father was an insurance adjuster, he knew as much about my
personal relationships as I did about brain surgery. But Mistress
Atsumi and her father seemed to be much more intimate than that.

"This is what I would like for her." Mistress Atsumi said, handing the
man a piece of paper covered with kanji in her delicate script.

Keiyu looked over the note carefully, rubbing his beard at one point.
"Have you discussed this with her?" He looked at Atsumi hard,
reminding me of the way my father looked at me when he thought I was
making a mistake.

"No. I don't have to, she's my slave." Mistress Atsumi tugged the
leash and I dropped to my knees in response. "She will accept what I
ask of her."

"She's not Aijen, Atsumi," her father's voice was soft and I wondered
who Aijen was and what this was all about. I tried to get a look at
the note, but not obviously, and my skills at reading Japanese did not
extend to upside down handwriting in any case. 

It seemed clear that Mistress Atsumi wished the man to do something to
me, but I had no idea what that could be. I assumed that whatever it
was would be permanent and I was torn between wanting to have it done,
whatever it might be, without having any choice; and the more sensible
desire to exercise some control over what happened to my body.

"I know that, father," Atsumi was speaking quietly. "But I know this
woman. I know what she wants, even if she doesn't. Do you doubt it?"
She seemed to be challenging the old man and he shook his head.

"I do not doubt that you believe that, Atsumi."

"So then you'll do it?" Atsumi crossed her arms, pulling my leash
inadvertently so that I had to lean forward with my head to her thigh.

"You must ask her first." The man pushed the paper across the glass
countertop between them. "I will not do it like this."

"I'll ask her now then. You'll see that I'm right." Atsumi reached
down and touched my face, lifting my chin with her fingertips so that
I looked up and into her face. Her expression seemed clouded by
something, fear perhaps, or uncertainty, like the woman wasn't quite
so self-assured as she'd professed herself to be.

"Slave..." she paused. "Jen-san, do you wish me to free you, right now?
I will give you back your things, Fumiko has them, and you will leave
me and we will never speak again. Do you wish this?"

I was not so surprised at her admission that Fumiko had my clothing
and my purse. I'd actually suspected as much and it had given our
little game a wonderful pretext. I thought about what I'd been through
that evening and how I'd seemed to learn and grow at every step. I
felt loved and wanted by this woman, as I'd never been before, and
even now I could see hope shining in her eyes. Atsumi didn't want me
to leave her. But I didn't know what, if anything, I was accepting or
losing. I didn't know how far our game extended or what all the rules
were. Somehow that didn't seem to matter, because Mistress Atsumi
would know, and she would protect me. I was certain of it.

"No, Mistress. I do not wish to be free." I couldn't help but put my
arms around her waist as I knelt there. "Please, do not send me away."

"Do you love me, Jen-san?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Do you trust me also?"

"Yes, Mistress. I love and trust you."

"Will you give yourself to me now, here in front of my father, as my
slave and lover?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"You must say it, Jen-san."

"I give myself to you, Mistress Atsumi, my body and my heart and my
spirit and my mind. I will be your slave and I will be your lover in
all things. I swear this to you, before your father and all of the
world. I beg you to accept this humble offering, Mistress."

I don't know where those words came from. It seemed as though another
voice had spoken through my lips, a different me, unknown and
unsuspected. Someone lurking and waiting within my heart for this
precise moment in time. It is a very Japanese concept that every thing
and every person has a perfect state of existence, a harmony in which
they are most pure and most content. I had heard of it, read of it,
but never experienced or even believed in it. Until right then. Giving
myself to this woman, a stranger it had taken 26 years and 10,000
miles to find, was my perfect moment.

"I accept you Jen-san," Mistress Atsumi said softly and I wept gently,
feeling myself suddenly overcome by emotions I had never experienced
before. She stroked my face lovingly and smiled at her father.

"Huh," the older man grunted, but he accepted me also. "She has a lot
to learn, but that is your concern now. Come with me."

He led us to a small room with a chair that seemed like a cross
between a dentist's chair and an OB/GYN examination table. I was told
to undress completely and I did so, feeling only a little shyness as
Mistress Atsumi's father watched me intently. I struggle briefly to
get free of the dress, as it was entirely too small for my body and I
think my self-conscious efforts amused the old man. Mistress Atsumi
had stayed behind in the shop proper and perhaps I felt more
uncomfortable being out of her presence than anything else.

"You may call me father now," Keiyu said as he positioned me in the
chair, bringing stirrups into place, wide apart so I had to spread my
legs, exposing my sex to him. "I will pierce you tonight, seven times,
and when those are healed I will do additional piercings until your
Mistress is satisfied."

"Yes, father." I nodded, swallowing nervously as seven piercings
sounded like quite a lot to a woman with only pierced earlobes.

He washed my sex with surgical soap, having put on some thin latex
gloves already. It was a gentle, but thorough process that left my
pussy tingling. I felt his fingers inside me, not far, just enough to
find my inner lips.

"These are the labia minora," he said in English, spreading my outer
lips and pulling at the smaller interior lips with the tip of his
finger. I could see them, thin and bright pink from the scrubbing he'd
given me. "I will pierce them both, three times on each side, and set
interlocking rings into them. You'll be able to urinate, to have your
menstruation, but you won't be able to penetrate your vagina with much
more than your little finger. You're hole is very small anyway, so
perhaps not even that. Do you understand this?"

I nodded again. "Yes, father. I understand."

"That's called female infibulation and it will keep you chaste. I will
also pierce your clitoral hood." His fingers were stroking the sheath
of my clit, coaxing that small bundle of nerves to stiffen and emerge
from her shy retreat. It felt good and I blushed slightly as I watched
the man's expert fingers draw my clit to her full erect state, all of
perhaps a quarter inch in length, softly rounded and ruddy. It was
aching already and the thought of having my clit pierced filled me
with fear.

"Do not worry, child, I've done this many times before. It'll be
painful, but I will not injure you." He gave me what I hoped was a
comforting smile. I just gulped and nodded. My clit was very sensitive
sometimes. "You have a wonderful pubis." He traced a finger just above
my sex, on the fat little swell just above my slit. "I should like to
give you a tattoo there sometime. Something personal. You should
consider it, because I think your Mistress would enjoy giving you such
a gift."

"I understand, father." It seemed strange calling him that when I
considered it in English. I'd been a good catholic girl growing up and
it seemed as if I were addressing him as a priest, but in Japanese it
was better, with a meaning closer to Daddy.

"Your piercings will heal within a month anyway," he said, removing
his fingers from my sex. "Six weeks at the most and your Mistress will
know how to care for them."

Atsumi had returned and I could see she was carrying several small
plastic bags containing the seven rings. Six of the rings were
silvery, surgical steel as Keiyu explained, and they were obviously
for my infibulation. Once they were in my flesh, piercing the small
inner lips of my cunt, they wouldn't be noticed by the casual
observer. My outer lips, the larger ones, would hide my rings well
enough, at least until someone tried to fuck me, I thought with a
smile. I had no idea how I felt about that. I liked having sex and the
idea that I wasn't going to enjoy intercourse again filled me with no
small amount of apprehension. That and having my clitoris pierced. I
liked my clitty just the way it was and sticking a needle through the
most sensitive spot on my entire body seemed a little insane to me,
despite father's reassurances.

Keiyu took the bags and dumped the contents into a small autoclave so
that they would be properly sterilized, closing the lid and turning a
dial, then flipping a little switch. "It will take some time before
everything is clean," the man said as he looked down at me and Atsumi
smiled at him.

"Would you like to take her, father?" she asked him sweetly.

"I have washed her already," the man said.

"But you can always wash her again," Atsumi persisted. "It is fitting
perhaps that her new father will be the last man she will ever have
inside her cunt." The vulgar word widened my eyes and once again I
tried to imagine myself saying such a thing in front of my real dad
and I couldn't.

Keiyu nodded and smiled, laughing as he undid his trousers and
revealing a very large penis that soon grew to full erection. Mistress
Atsumi pulled a stool close to the chair and sat down next to me,
leaning her face close to mine as he we both watched her father
rubbing his penis across my slit.

"I have never been with a man, slave," Mistress Atsumi whispered, the
tip of her tongue tickling my ear. "But if I did, it would be with our
father. Enjoy it for me." She said it almost angrily, I thought, and
grabbed a fistful of my hair, turning my face to kiss me hard. She
pushed her tongue deep into my mouth at the same moment Keiyu thrust
his cock into the furthest reaches of my cunt with one swift thrust.

The effect of being fucked by a large penis, combined with the large
plug still stretching my ass, was a new and intense experience. I felt
more full than I'd ever been before in my life. It seemed Keiyu
touched me in places that I'd never known existed. I could feel the
friction between his shaft and the butt plug through the thin
sensitive walls of flesh that separated them and the effect was
deliciously wicked. I started cumming almost at once, having been
primed by his earlier touches and the impossible knowledge that this
might be the last cock I would ever feel reaching my womb.

Mistress Atsumi continued kissing me the entire time. It seemed our
mouths could never tire of each other and I felt her hand massaging my
breasts, squeezing and manipulating the flesh until my nipples burned
and felt as though they would leap from my body. I felt her leather
clad fingers tracing my welts, exploring my bruised tits, digging into
my body painfully when she wanted to elicit a sharp yelp from my open
mouth. She drank all of that experience, breathing my moans and sighs
until I could barely control my own body. I was jerking off the chair,
thrusting my cunt against the cock invading me, arching my back to
press my tits to Mistress Atsumi's palms, and working my tongue
frantically against hers. My orgasm's were rapid and they stole all
sense from my mind.

When father came, it was deep inside my sex, flooding me with his
sperm and I enjoyed it immensely. I found myself almost wishing that I
hadn't been on the pill, that I could have conceived a child by this
last man to cum inside my cunt. I might have had a daughter, a sister
for Mistress Atsumi and I to love, but this was only the idle dreaming
of the rapture in which I was caught. It took a very long time for my
heart to slow again and for my lungs to stop their ragged heaving.
Father cleaned my sex gently, using a washcloth and a small douche to
wash me inside. He placed a pan beneath my sex and I watched as his
sperm flowed out of me, thin and weak as the man bathed my vagina with
warm water.

The piercings themselves did not take so long to perform and were only
mildly painful. He did my inner labia first, as he'd promised, using
canula needles, that left a small plastic sleeve behind when they
passed through my body. He used circlip pliers to open each ring,
which were not ball closures, like the one that would go through my
clit, but more like small hoop earrings, with a narrow end that fit
into the hollow of the other end. He put three in each of my labia
minora, spaced equally apart with a few millimeters between them, and
interlocked as he'd described so that my pussy was effectively shut to
any meaningful penetration. It was forced chastity and my emotional
response was curious. I didn't know how I'd feel about that in the
days, weeks, possibly even years to come.

The piercing of my clitoris was next, my clitoral hood, I should say.
He wouldn't actually pierce my clit, thank goodness. I still fidgeted
nervously however, watching as Keiyu prepared me for it. All of the
rings in my labia were 2mm gauge surgical steel, but the one in my
clit would be smaller, only 1.6mm and made of 18 carat gold. It was a
ball closure ring with the ball itself made from a small 4mm pearl.
Although beautiful to look at, father told me he would have preferred
to use a less ornamental ring of surgical steel until I'd healed, and
then replaced it, but Mistress Atsumi had insisted on this.

He rubbed my clitoris once again, but this time engaged my tender
flesh with a surgical clamp. Resembling a small pair of scissors, they
were designed for squeezing, not cutting, and he gripped my clit and
pulled it outward slightly. He wanted to get the ring as low as
possible, father explained, and very near the base of my clitoris.
This wasn't so much painful as it was dramatically over-stimulating
and I trembled at the sensation, biting my lips as Mistress Atsumi
held me in her arms and whispered soft words of encouragement.

Father did the actual piercing quickly after that and it did hurt, but
not nearly so bad as I'd imagined. He did it as he'd done with my
labia, using a canula needle, pushing it through the thin sheath
completely until a plastic sleeve penetrated my flesh, then threading
the ring through the sleeve. He removed the sleeve and fitted the
pearl ball closure and let the ring close shut. It was over in only a
few minutes and I stared at the new jewelry I sported, hanging just to
left of tender clitoris like a pale drop of milk. The ring itself, I
quickly realized, had been placed in a position where it would forever
stimulate my clitoris, whether I wanted it to or not.

Mistress Atsumi kissed me as I relaxed, smiling with relief that the
procedure had been so simple. It was probably harder for father than
for me, trying to juggle the clamp, the needle, the circlip pliers,
and the ring. I giggled and told him he needed an assistant and he
took it good naturedly, smiling up at me and telling me that sharing
would take half the fun out of it.

Father washed me gently again, then took a number of photos, asking me
to spread my pussy at one point so that the rings in my inner lips
could be more easily seen. After taking the pictures, he applied a
medicinal cream to fight infection and handed me the tube to take with
me. He told me what to watch for as I healed, and how to care for my
piercings, but didn't go into a lot of detail. He repeated that
Mistress Atsumi knew how to care for me. He said the best thing now
would be to go home and lie down, to remain off my feet for a few
days, and let my body take care of itself. All of this sounded very
good to me because I was very tired then.

I did put my panties back on and I both walked and sat very carefully
on the way to Mistress Atsumi's apartment. She lived near the Ginza,
the great shopping district, and her apartments were generous by
Japanese standards, on the eighth floor of a large complex. She led me
to a bedroom, which seemed largely to be used for storage at the
moment, and told me it would be mine. She found me a simple kimono, of
the casual sort used for relaxing in the privacy of one's home or
garden, and left to make us tea while I changed. I could move only
slowly, for my piercings had begun to ache greatly, and of course the
dress was still tight and difficult to remove, but I managed.

I found Mistress Atsumi in the kitchen, she had undressed as the water
heated and now stood wearing only a silk robe, belted around her
waist. She smiled when she saw me and placed our tea, sugar, cream,
and some small pastries on a tray and I followed her to a large
balcony. It was secluded and filled with plants so that it resembled a
terrace garden. One could almost ignore the city spread out behind the
thick shrubbery and trees that crowded the wrought iron railing.

Mistress Atsumi and I sat close together in small lounge chairs,
sipping our tea and talking. We discussed who we were, where we'd come
from, our experiences growing up, sharing the little things that make
us who we are. It was very much like a first date, that nervous talk
when you hope you won't say something silly, or that your interests
won't seem utterly boring. The difference of course was that I'd
already given myself to this woman, even though I had no real
understanding of why or how. It had just happened. How dreadful it
might have been then to find that we had nothing in common, that we
were not meant for each other after all.

Luckily, that was not the case. If anything I found myself even more
drawn to this incredibly beautiful Japanese woman. Every word she said
rang familiar to me, echoing a similar thought, or feeling, or
experience in my own life. I think my words had the same effect on her
as well. At some point our tea was forgotten and I found myself
embraced in her arms, kissing the woman passionately as she whispered
soft words of love into my ears. I, who had never had a lesbian
experience in my life until that evening, was hopelessly enamored with
my new Mistress.

The hour had grown late when Fumiko arrived. She and Mistress Atsumi
shared everything it seemed; ownership of the BDSM club, the
apartment, and to some extent even me. Fumiko found us still on the
terrace, quietly sitting and almost sleeping by then in the warm
summer night. She had prepared a snack and sat down to eat it, smiling
at us as she discussed what had happened at the club, small business
things that were of no major importance. Mistress Atsumi in her turn
told Fumiko that I had given myself to her completely, news that did
not seem to surprise Fumiko, nor was it immediately apparent if she
was pleased or displeased. I felt very tired by then and found it too
difficult to try and understand the girl.

I woke up the next day and it was almost noon. I felt very sore
between my legs and somewhat itchy. I reached down to scratch myself
before I remembered my piercings. Fumiko was awake already and she
smiled and offered me a cheerful greeting when I wandered into the
kitchen. She told me her sister was still sleeping, but that she was
glad I was awake because we had many things to do, the first being to
eat and then get me cleaned up.

I felt very hungry and after a breakfast of rice and scrambled eggs
with some small sausages, Fumiko took me into the bathroom. It was
arranged in traditional fashion, although somewhat larger than the
usual that I'd seen. It was separated into three areas by sliding
doors. There was a small toilet, a large white and blue tiled area for
bathing, which had both a shower and a large plastic tub beneath a
spigot, already filled with water. There were eyebolts embedded in the
floor near the walls, which seemed curious. The last room contained
the hot bath, similar in shape, but smaller than a simple Jacuzzi.

Fumiko undressed me completely and then undressed herself. She had me
turn around and bend over so she could remove the butt plug from my
ass, grimacing when she saw how dirty it was. I had become so used to
it that I hadn't even realized it was still inside me while I'd slept.
She told me to use the toilet while she washed it for me, but after
that morning I would have to take care of it myself. I would wear the
plug at all times, removing it only for bathing and for using the
toilet. A buttplug was to become a part of me, like my piercings, and
Fumiko assured me with a curious smile that I would soon have an
assortment of plugs for our Mistress to choose from.

After my toilet, we washed Japanese fashion. First with cold water
spooned from the large tub, washing ourselves thoroughly with soap.
Fumiko washed my piercings carefully and explained to me that there
would be some swelling and some discoloration and discharge, but that
was normal. She would check me everyday, or Mistress Atsumi would,
until they were healed fully. After rinsing, we took a hot bath in the
very large tub, heated through the bottom by natural gas. It was not
really for bathing, of course, only for soaking, for relaxing after
the cold bath. Normally such baths would be long and leisurely
affairs, but Fumiko warned me that it was not good to bathe new
piercings too often or too long, so our bath would be short.

She dried me carefully and applied medication to my piercings, and
reinserted the lubricated butt plug into my ass. Fumiko dressed me in
a pair of old jogging pants and a sweatshirt, which was the best she
could do until my own clothes were brought over. We would go to my
apartment now, she told me, and bring some things, moving slowly, a
little day by day until I could easily close my apartment. It was then
that I suddenly remembered work and I nearly panicked.

I babbled foolishly, telling Fumiko I had to call my boss, I had to
make an excuse, or something, I didn't know what I was going to do. It
was after 1pm already, I'd missed most of the day. Fumiko only shook
her head, wondering why I would make such a fuss.

"Jen-san! You do not work there anymore," she said, laughing at the
look on my face.

"What? Of course I do! I have to! Oh my God!" I reached for the
telephone just as Mistress Atsumi walked out of her bedroom, asking
Fumiko what was going on. She smiled at me and gave me a tender hug
when she heard the explanation.

"Slave, you do not belong to that company." She looked at me sternly.
"You belong to me. You must do as Fumiko tells you and then tonight
you'll write a letter of resignation. Do you understand me?"

"I..." My mind reeled. Is this what I'd agreed to, and if so, was it
what I wanted? I'd invested my life in that job. Years of hard work to
get an education and now...? "I am frightened, Mistress." I had to be
honest. I couldn't agree or disagree yet and I was glad that Mistress
Atsumi accepted this.

"You do not need to be. I'll take care of you, as I've promised. There
is nothing to fear." She put her arms around my neck, looking into my
eyes. "I love you, Jen-san, and I'll keep you with me always."

I breathed a sigh of relief and nodded. I had to trust her, it was the
only way. "Then I will do as you tell me, Mistress."

"Good." She smiled and kissed me lightly. "After this, I will punish
you for such behavior, but this time I will forgive you."

"Thank you, Mistress. I am sorry." I lowered my head, feeling very
sorry indeed.

"Is your ass prepared?" Mistress Atsumi felt for my butt plug through
the thin cotton of the jogging pants, giving it a little push. "And
your piercings, are they well?"

"They are fine, Mistress," I nodded.

"Come with me now," she decided. "I will teach you one of your duties
as my slave."

I glanced at Fumiko and she merely smiled and lifted an eyebrow as I
followed Mistress Atsumi into the bathroom, into the area where I had
washed myself earlier.

"Take off your clothes, slave," Mistress Atsumi told me and I looked
at her, not understanding, but I did as she asked, handing them to
Fumiko who stood in the doorway.

Mistress Atsumi opened her silk robe, exposing her naked body to me
and I could see the dark tangle of her pubic hair. "Get down, slave, I
require your mouth now." I had been waiting for this, wondering when
my Mistress would teach me how to please her with my tongue and lips,
but a little confused as to why she wanted it there and then.

I had tasted myself before of course, but never another woman's sex
and I was a little nervous. I wanted to please her, but I felt myself
shy and awkward, fearing that I wouldn't do it properly. I knelt and
leaned forward, parting my lips slightly and staring at the outline of
her sex through the shadow of her hair. Mistress Atsumi surprised me
by putting her hands on my head, pulling my mouth to her hard and
bending her knees slightly, to press her slit to my lips.

"Every morning, slave, you shall do this for me. Drink now, carefully,
do not make a mess or I will be unhappy." With those words Mistress
Atsumi began urinating into my mouth and I tried to jerk instinctively
away, but her grip was tight and she stopped her flow until I had
calmed.

"You must relax, Jen-san," Fumiko suggested, but I felt only
bewildered and even a bit offended at the idea.

"Try again, slave," my Mistress said patiently, relaxing her muscles
and once again filling my mouth with hot piss. I swallowed this time,
feeling deep humiliation and revulsion at being forced to do this. It
was hot, slightly salty and bitter, almost acidic as it filled my
stomach. Several times I came close to retching and I thought I would
throw up any second.

I managed to drink perhaps half of Mistress Atsumi's urine, the rest
spilling down my face and neck, into my hair and across my breasts and
body. I felt despoiled and dirty and there were tears in my eyes as I
stared down at the tiles, pooled with her yellowish waste. I could
feel her staring at me, both of the women, Fumiko and my Mistress and
I was terribly shamed.

"You did very poorly, slave." Mistress Atsumi frowned and grabbed my
jaw in her fingers, tilting my head up to face her. "Is my piss not
good enough for you?"

I couldn't answer, my lower lip trembled and I had tears running down
my flushed red cheeks. "I'm sorry, Mistress," I whispered. "Please...L-
Let me try again." I moved my mouth back towards her sex, but she
pushed me away.

"Tomorrow, slave. I have no more for you now. You've wasted it all and
you've made a mess of my bath. Clean this place up before you leave."
She turned to her sister, "Fumiko, see that she's suitably punished.
I'll be at the club tonight."

"Yes, Mistress," Fumiko bowed to her sister and smiled at me.

I cleaned the bath, it wasn't difficult, and washed my body and hair
very quickly. I felt slightly nauseas still. Mistress Atsumi's urine
in my stomach seemed to burn slightly, but it was probably just my
mind overreacting. I dressed in the jogging suit again, looking very
plain and shabby I thought, especially when I saw that Fumiko had
dressed very nicely, with her face made up perfectly. She looked once
again like the angel she'd been onstage and I remembered her helpless
and awaiting the crop thrust into my hands. That seemed very remote
and even laughable, as Fumiko had proven when she'd whipped my breasts
so cruelly. I felt the quiver of nervous fear and sexual excitement at
seeing her that way again, dark and exquisite and so small. I felt
like an ugly, pale cow by comparison.

"Where is your collar, Jen-san?" she asked me pointedly and I did not
know. I hadn't even realized it had been removed while I slept. "Find
it, you must never leave this place without it."

I nodded and went to my bedroom, but couldn't find it there. I paused
and then went to the terrace and searched frantically. It had suddenly
become very important to me, although I couldn't then express why. I
found it finally in the living room, sitting atop the television, and
I breathed a sigh of relief as I put it around my neck, buckling the
supple leather into place while Fumiko waited impatiently.

"You are responsible for the collar around your neck and the plug in
your ass. I will not remind you of these things again, I will only
report it to our Mistress and she will be unhappy with you." She
sounded angry and I lowered my eyes, bowing to her.

"Forgive me, Fumiko-san, I will not forget. Thank you." It seemed to
placate the smaller woman and we left for my apartment.

Fumiko had returned from work the night before with my keys and
nothing more it seemed. If she'd brought the rest of my purse or my
clothes, she made no mention of it and I didn't ask. We took a train
to Shinjuku and then a short cab ride to my apartment building. Once
inside, Fumiko had me get my mail, my important personal papers, my
passport, and any other small items I desired to have nearby. I
grabbed my laptop and a few music CD's, my journal, and packed a
single suitcase with clothes, frowning as I found my wardrobe very
boring after my recent experiences. Fumiko allowed me to change and I
was able to dress nicely and make up my face, brush my hair and teeth.
In all we were there less than an hour and soon traveling back to my
new home.

We stayed just long enough to put my things in my bedroom and then we
left again, this time going to the Ginza to do some shopping. I had no
money, but Fumiko didn't seem to care. We bought an assortment of
personal items for me, especially cosmetics, perfumes, scented oils
and soaps, innumerable beauty products really. I briefly wondered if
Fumiko was trying to say something about my personal hygiene. We
bought some clothing, but it was all for wearing around the apartment.
A silk robe, some house slippers, pajamas, nightgowns, that sort of
thing. I wasn't used to that, having been accustomed to just sleeping
in an oversized t-shirt and panties for much of my life.

By the time we carted our purchases back to the apartment it was
nearly 6pm and we left again, this time going out for dinner. We
hadn't spoken much during the day. I was uncertain of Fumiko's
attitude towards me, which seemed at times to be warm and friendly,
almost loving, and at other times the woman could be distant, almost
cold in a way. Fumiko herself did not deign to enlighten me, speaking
to me only when it was necessary. I worried over that very much.

At dinner I decided to find out, if I could, what the woman really
thought of me. We were in a nice restaurant that specialized in Kobe
steak and the prices were ridiculous, even by Tokyo standards. Fumiko
ordered for the both of us and we had a bottle of wine while we waited
for our dinner.

"Fumiko-san," I spoke slowly. "Are you angry with me?"

"No, I'm not angry." She narrowed her eyes. "Why do you ask me that?"

"I would like very much to be your friend." I chose my words
carefully. "I am only afraid that I have disappointed you in some way.
If I have...displeased you...I beg your forgiveness, Fumiko-san."

"You do not displease me, Jen," she smiled and adopted the English
version of my name. "I'm very happy to be with you, as if we are
sisters now."

I smiled at her words. "I am sorry I have misunderstood..." I started,
but she cut me off.

"There's no need to apologize. I haven't been so friendly, you're
right." She reached out to touch my hand and I gripped her tiny
fingers. "If you were mine, perhaps this would be different between
us, but..." she made a small fluttering gesture with her other hand,
"...I am only your friend, not your Mistress."

"I'm glad you are my friend, Fumiko-san," I replied truthfully and
shifted in my seat with some annoyance. The plug in my ass grew
extremely uncomfortable when I sat down any longer than ten minutes or
so.

"Your posture," the girl laughed lightly. "The dildo in your rectum,
Jen-san. You must learn to sit properly."

"Oh!" I blinked and looked around the crowded restaurant self-
consciously. Thankfully most Japanese are polite enough, or rude
enough perhaps, to make a point of ignoring even the most attractive
foreigners.

Our food arrived and we ate in silence for a moment before I returned
to the subject which interested me most.

"I am in love with your sister," I said, wishing to make that clear. I
required Fumiko's good opinion more than anything else, and maybe her
reassurance as well. I really didn't have any idea what I was doing.

"I love her as well," Fumiko smiled sadly. "So perhaps I am also
jealous? I don't know."

"You call her Mistress though?" I was trying to understand.

"Yes. That is so, but only because I wish it, not because she demands
it. She does not sleep with me, Jen-san." Fumiko looked pointedly at
me. "As much as I would have her, Atsumi will not have me. It isn't
proper for us, she has told me that, and I believe sometimes it's a
cruelty that I should feel this when she does not."

We had our dinner and returned to the apartment. I removed my clothes
and then my butt plug, washing it before using the toilet. I felt very
sore and my piercings itched, so Fumiko washed me gently. While we
bathed from the plastic tub, pouring water over ourselves with a large
scoop, I looked at Fumiko shyly.

"Do you...need to pee, Fumiko-san?"

"Why do you ask?" She gave me a little grin.

"Because I..." I blushed despite the cold water. "I would like to learn.
I displeased Mistress Atsumi this morning, I think."

"No!" Fumiko laughed and shook her head. "She was very pleased by
you."

I looked at my friend. "Are you sure? But she said..."

"Of course she cannot tell you, but you will learn these things. Soon
enough you will know how to tell."

"But I would still like to...learn," I said softly.

"I think you did not like it." Fumiko washed my breasts. They were
still sore and the bruises were faded into yellowish-purple splotches.
Her strong fingers very nearly brought tears to my eyes as they worked
the tender flesh. "And I must also punish you yet. Have you forgotten
that?"

I had forgotten that Mistress Atsumi wanted me punished. I sat looking
at Fumiko, not saying anything while she finished bathing me. She
reached for my sex and pulled at the ring in my clit gently, watching
as that curious knot of flesh was drawn tight. I gasped at the flash
of pain, but more at the immediate shock of pleasure. The girl smiled
with satisfaction as a tiny shudder went through me.

And what a smile. Her angelic face seemed so innocent and pure right
then, almost child-like but for her penetrating gaze. Fumiko had her
sister's eyes and I could hide nothing from them. "You are a true
slave, Jen-san," she decided softly. "You will never be satisfied by
what we can do to you, I think."

I could only sit there, looking at her. "Yes," I sighed, knowing she
was right. I would protest and resist and then only later would I
realize how much I'd enjoyed and needed it.

"But we will try anyway!" Fumiko giggled and stood up. I took her hand
and she pulled me to my feet as well. "Bend over now."

I did as the small girl asked and grimaced slightly as Fumiko pushed
the plug back into my ass. My muscles were being trained, I realized,
and there was very little discomfort now. It went in easily and the
overall feeling was almost soothing. Soon, I thought, it would seem
more uncomfortable to be without that hard intrusive presence. I
straightened back up and Fumiko dried me off and led me into my
bedroom where she applied more of the cream to my piercings. My clit
burned under her touch and she stroked it just for a second, teasing
me.

"Lie down now and we will punish your breasts," Fumiko said softly and
I groaned at the thought. They were still sore and discolored from the
previous day, so much so that I'd almost been certain that Fumiko
would have to find some other way to punish me. She caught my look and
just pushed me back. "Do not worry, Jen-san. This is very easy, you'll
see."

"But they are still sore, Fumiko-san. Please..." I couldn't finish
because the girl brought her hand to my cheek with a hard stinging
slap. I felt my eyes watering and my whole body seemed to flush, not
from the pain, which was very slight, but from the surprise and
humiliation.

"I am sorry, Fumiko-san," I whispered immediately and I sank back onto
my bed, keeping my eyes tightly shut.

"Your Mistress loves you, Jen," Fumiko said quietly, her fingertips
tracing my features. "And so I will love you also. That's why I will
do this, do you understand?"

I nodded and my lips moved, but no sound escaped.

"And that's why you will accept it." She left the bed and moved to the
bureau, returning a moment later and sitting next to me as I lay
there. "Open your eyes now."

"Yes...Mistress." I blinked at her. Fumiko sat very erect on the bed,
still naked and meltingly beautiful. She held what looked like a
leather belt, although it seemed to be shaped more like a pretzel than
anything else.

"Do not call me that." Fumiko slipped the strange belt around my
breasts. It was basically two small belts connected together, I saw,
so that they formed a shape like the number eight. "We only have one
Mistress. I am doing this because she wishes it."

"You don't want to do this to me?" I asked without trying to be
clever, only wanting to understand. She cinched the belts tightly
around each of my breasts, one at a time. Once again it brought more
discomfort than real pain as the fatty tissue was squeezed to such a
small diameter that I had the irrational fear that Fumiko would
somehow sever them completely.

"Of course I do," she giggled. "You have such wonderful, perfect
breasts, Jen-san. How could I ever tire of this?" She sat back,
watching as my tits seemed to swell, plumping as if they were being
filled with water until the thin strips of leather that bound them
were almost invisible.

My body began protesting almost immediately, my chest filling with an
ache at first, a low burning sensation. My nipples itched and hardened
to twin dark points, demanding attention. I had to fight to resist the
urge to touch myself. I arched my back and grabbed small fistfuls of
bed sheet, digging my fingers into the soft cool fabric.

"Do not move," Fumiko told me sternly. "I will get the candle." She
gave me a little giggle as she left the room.

While I struggled with the idea of Fumiko using hot wax on my breasts,
I watched as my once pale skin turned pink and then slowly red. They
felt as if they were on fire and the feeling spread rapidly throughout
my entire body, centering it seemed on my sex. I pressed my thighs
together, all too aware of the moisture weeping from my slit. I wanted
to touch myself so badly, to feel my breasts, to rub the sweet spot
hiding just behind my clit. I began to tremble with the effort of
keeping my hands still.

Time was a lost concept to that awful, growing torture. How long had
Fumiko been gone? Where was she, I wondered. I needed her. I needed
her attention, her permission, her presence and approval. I was
longing for more, to be whipped, or waxed, or clamped, or whatever
else she wanted to do to me. The pain grew steadily worse, not from my
bonds, but from being denied. The belts were just enough to make me
want more, didn't she know that? I was supposed to be punished. Where
was Fumiko? I had memories of being whipped and I tried to relive
them, to imagine Fumiko stroking my flesh with her crop. The pain
flashing through me, bringing my blood to boiling, giving my desire
voice in screams of pain. I needed it now, more than I'd ever needed
anything.

"Stop!" Mistress Atsumi's voice startled me, making me quiver with
fear and anticipation. My hands were on my belly, sliding up and down
halfway between my aching, swollen breasts and the fire burning
between my thighs. I didn't remember letting go of the sheets.

I stared at my Mistress, feeling both shame and longing. She was
dressed nicely, presumably just arriving back from the club. Fumiko
stood naked behind her, not smiling and whispering something to Atsumi
who seemed to wave the girl away.

"Mistress..." I couldn't help but smile, a little shyly perhaps, but
Atsumi frowned.

"Do not speak," she said and her words fell like a slap to my face.
She removed the belt from my breasts and the sudden wave of pain made
me cry out as blood rushed back into my tortured flesh.

Fumiko produced several pairs of handcuffs, real ones it seemed, and
Atsumi turned me over onto my stomach so that my breasts were crushed
painfully beneath my weight. In this way Mistress bound me to the bed
frame, at my ankles and legs, so I was spread eagle and completely
exposed. By the time she'd finished, Fumiko had returned with a small
black satchel. Atsumi opened it and pulled out some vials, a small can
and some matches. She used a spoon, and some cotton, cooking something
on the nightstand and filling a syringe with it.

"What is that, Mistress?" I asked her. I felt uncomfortable, sensing
it was something that I shouldn't ever know about.

"It is heroin, Jen-san. Now lie still and you will like this." She
brought the needle to my arm and I protested then, telling her I
didn't want it. That I couldn't do any such thing.

"Please," I begged her. "Don't..." But it was too late. She pushed the
plunger and a moment later I felt the most wonderful sensations.
Floating and dreaming, without a care in the world.

She made love to me then, removing the butt plug from my ass and using
a huge dildo that looked as though it should have split me in two, but
it didn't. It only felt good and I was flying with her on top of me,
kissing me, fucking me over and over again until I couldn't stop
cumming. It was the most perfect and beautiful experience of my life
and all I knew was that I never, ever wanted her to stop making love
to me.

At some point I must have passed out, for I awoke still chained to the
bed, feeling sore and thirsty and I needed to pee badly. The bedroom
lights were still on and I lifted my head weakly, looking over my
shoulder to see the large dildo protruding from my ass. It was
massive, stretching me unnaturally and I became aware of a particular
pain deep between my legs, like a cramp, but not throbbing, not coming
and going, just a constant ache.

"You're awake now, good." Fumiko had entered the room and she smiled
at me. "How do you feel."

"Sore," I whispered. "I need to use the bathroom."

Fumiko nodded and moved to the bed, reaching between my legs and
pulling the dildo from my ass. It had been inside me at least eight or
nine inches, I thought, and it bulged in places, very wide and uneven,
not a smooth phallus at all. She set it aside and unlocked my cuffs,
letting me roll over slowly and finally sit up. Then Fumiko handcuffed
my hands behind my back. She did the same with my ankles, locking the
two lengths of chain together, so I would have to shuffle my feet as I
walked.

"Why do you have to keep me like this?" I asked the smaller woman. I
felt like I was sleep walking, there was no resistance inside me and
the chains seemed ridiculous.

She just shrugged. "It's part of your training."

"Oh." I didn't know what else to say. "Mistress...She gave me something
last night. Heroin, I think." It was difficult to walk and the cramp
between my legs felt worse when I moved.

"Yes. I know," Fumiko nodded. She carried the dildo and my butt plug
into the bathroom as I followed slowly. She helped me sit down on the
toilet and I felt a little embarrassment having Fumiko there, but she
attended to washing the dildo and the butt plug in the sink while I
urinated.

"You must shit as well." Fumiko looked at me and I wasn't sure I
could. "The heroin will make you constipated, but you are loose now."

I tried and pushed, but it hurt and I shook my head. "Later, please?"
Fumiko just shrugged and wiped my pussy with some toilet paper.

"Perhaps Mistress will give you an enema." She reached down and
fingered my asshole gently. "We will bathe later," she told me.

Fumiko brought me back to the bedroom and chained me once again to the
bed, this time on my back. She pushed the butt plug in my ass, asking
me to raise my hips for her. I felt a welcome pressure as the widest
part stretched my anus once again and then it slipped inside and
Fumiko pushed it snugly back into place.

I watched wordlessly as Fumiko retrieved the same kit that Atsumi had
used the night before and I asked her why she was injecting me with
heroin. "Didn't you like it?" she asked me, smiling a little.

"Yes, I did like it. But isn't it...dangerous?"

"No, not like this. Mistress only wants to make you hungry for it."

"She doesn't have to though," I whispered.

"Why is that?" Fumiko asked, pushing the needle into my arm.

"Because...I'm hungry for her..." I felt the rush of the drugs coming into
my head and I felt like I was swimming in a fire, but it didn't burn
me, it just felt good.

"You are a strange woman, Jen-san." Fumiko was undressing and I just
stared at her. I thought she had to be the most beautiful thing in the
world just then, glowing and flowing, like she was made of water, all
wet and warm.

"Are you wet?" I asked her, but she didn't understand me.

"Drink this now." She straddled my face, kneeling over my mouth and
pressing her tiny pussy to my lips.

She was wet, all water and warm and salty as she poured herself into
my mouth, slowly at first and I drank eagerly. Then she turned bitter
and I felt my stomach churning against her and I didn't want to drink
this girl. The drugs were twisting everything I knew, confusing me and
I wanted to be clear, but it was so hard. I swallowed as much as I
could and felt some of her running down my face, wetting my pillow and
soaking my hair and neck. Fumiko lifted herself and I breathed deeply.

"Did I hurt you?" I asked her, because it seemed I must have drank
half of her small body already.

"What?" She laughed at me. "No, of course not. Do you want more?"

"You're so small, Fumiko-san," I said and I licked my lips wondering
why she tasted like that.

"But I have a lot of piss for you. Drink." She put her pussy back to
my mouth and I clamped my lips over it, feeling the girl filling my
mouth again and again as I swallowed.

And then Fumiko changed, slowly, dissolving and growing into her
sister, Atsumi, as lights and shadows from the window moved fast and
slow, the world spinning away without me.

"What time is it?" My voice sounded soft and tired and I felt as
though I could barely keep my eyes open.

"It's time for another injection," Atsumi smiled and I realized she
was holding the syringe.

"Oh..." I nodded, smiling. "I remember."

"Shhh...quiet now...Fumiko!" she called and a moment later the girl
appeared, naked and sweating, her body flushed. "Hold her arm still."

"Yes Mistress." The girl grabbed my left arm tightly and I watched
dispassionately as Atsumi pricked my arm, filling me with another dose
of the wonderful drug.

"You have such a perfect body, Jen-san. Good veins." She withdrew the
needle and kissed me. "Whip her," Mistress told Fumiko and then she
left.

Being whipped while on heroin is like...dying and going to heaven, only
to find that God had left the Marquis de Sade in charge. Once again it
was my breasts which had to endure the punishment. Fumiko used a very
small switch made of wood. It was thin and flexible and intensely
painful. She whipped my tits for a long time while my mind tried to
cope with the dream-like, surreal quality the drugs lent to the scene.

At times it felt as though each small stroke was a living thing, like
a viper biting into my flesh, insinuating itself beneath my skin,
coiling and writhing so that the welts seemed to wriggle and crawl
before my horrified eyes. At other times I was apart from it,
observing casually and feeling nothing. The sharp slapping sound
echoed in my ears, reverberating, and I laughed and cried and felt
myself going mad beneath Fumiko's smiling gaze.

I don't think I ever fell totally asleep, but I wasn't awake either. I
was somewhere in between. Mistress Atsumi was there and I looked at
her. "I have to go to work," I told her, since that was the first
thought that came into my head. The second thought was that I was
going to be sick. I felt my stomach cramping and I had a dim memory of
a dream, of drinking Fumiko's urine.

"You are at work, Jen-san." The woman looked at me and I saw she was
dressed in a wonderful kimono, pink and white and blue, a classic
design of Japanese cranes. Her hair was put up and held in place with
an ivory comb. She had a powdered face and crimson lips, and her eyes
were black and beautiful.

I rolled over onto my side, bringing my hands underneath my cheek like
a little girl. It took me a long moment to realize I was no longer
chained to the bed. "What did you do to me?" I whispered, watching
Mistress Atsumi as she just stood there, beautiful and ethereal like a
dream.

"I gave you a reward," her voice was soothing. "Because I love you so
much. You must bathe and dress. I would like you at the club tonight."

"I'm so...sleepy." I yawned and curled up a little tighter. "Mistress..."
I breathed and then she was gone.

"Jen...Jen..." Someone was tugging at my arm and I opened my eyes to see
Fumiko. "Come with me now. We need to get ready."

I stood and stretched, moving slowly and feeling sore and stiff all
over. I examined my breasts and they were a mass of bruises, stained
yellow and purple and black. They were grotesque and beautiful, I
thought, criss-crossed with welts that hadn't healed yet. My nipples
were puffy and swollen and colored dark red. I massaged my tits
tenderly, admiring how the swelling made them seem even larger, the
skin tight and warm.

"You're an artist, Fumiko-san!" I giggled a little, wondering if it
was me, or if I was still a little high on the drugs they'd given me.

"And you are a bad little slave," the lovely girl chided me with a
grin, pulling me by the arm to follow her into the bathroom.

I used the toilet, although it was difficult, and Fumiko rewarded me
with a warm, soapy enema. I'd never experienced such a thing before,
but it wasn't as unpleasant as I'd feared. It actually felt good for a
little while and about the time it became uncomfortable I was allowed
to expel the dirty fluid. This was repeated twice more until Fumiko
was satisfied and then she washed the rest of me, paying careful
attentions to my piercings, which were healing well, she decided.

Fumiko replaced my butt plug and fastened my collar around my neck and
allowed me to dress in something reasonable, at least by the standards
to which I was becoming accustomed. A cream colored leather miniskirt
and a red silk blouse, sans bra of course, so my nipples protruded
obscenely. I put on a red thong, pulling it tight across the flanged
base of my buttplug and high over my hips. Some red fishnet stockings
and cream colored heels finished my outfit. I made up my face and
brushed my golden hair, tying it back in a thick pony tail, while
Fumiko dressed in her own bedroom.

She emerged looking like a Goth goddess in what had to be an authentic
German SS uniform, or part of one anyway, and tailored to her pixie
form. Fumiko wore gleaming black jack boots into which her black wool
trousers were tucked neatly. The pants were pleated and tailored to
hug her hips and ass nicely, ballooning slightly at the knees. She
wore no blouse at all, just a black wool jacket, casually buttoned so
that her breasts were exposed when she moved. The jacket had collar
tabs and epaulets embroidered in silver, for rank I guessed, though I
had no idea what they represented. There was silver piping around the
collar and cuffs, and a patch with an eagle holding a swastika on the
left breast. Around her neck she wore a red and black ribbon with an
authentic iron cross dangling from it. On her head, Fumiko wore a
peaked cap in silver and black with a gleaming skull pinned on the
front. She carried a leather riding crop, slapping it against her
thigh as she stared at me and her face had been painted white, with
deep black eyes and crimson lips. On the whole, the effect seemed both
frightening and terribly exciting, I thought.

Fumiko attached the leash to my collar and led me outside and I could
only imagine what people must have thought of us. Me, tall, blonde and
American, and dressed like a prostitute, being led on a leash by a
small, elfin, Japanese girl costumed as evil incarnate. I kept my eyes
down for much of the short walk to the subway station, avoiding the
stares and trying to ignore the odd comments and giggles. It was early
evening and the streets were crowded, the trains would be even worse,
I knew.

Standing on the subway, everyone was pushed very close together. I
stood facing Fumiko, her face coming just to my breasts and I looked
down on her as we moved from stop to stop, with interminable periods
of swaying in between. We had 6 stops before arriving at Shinagawa
Station and we'd transfer to a real train. Between the 3rd and 4th I
suddenly felt someone's hand on my thigh, stroking up the back of my
leg towards my barely covered ass. I sucked a little breath of air and
my body tensed causing Fumiko to look up sharply into my face.

"What's wrong?" she asked softly.

The hand played along the tops of my stockings and I closed my eyes
for a second, feeling both slight embarrassment and pangs of
excitement at being touched like that in public by a stranger. It
brought back memories of previous encounters and a part of me had
missed those furtive moments.

"Someone is touching me..." I spoke softly as well, but doubtless a few
people around us could hear, perhaps even the man whose fingers were
moving ever upward toward my sex.

Fumiko moved a little, peeking around me to see who was doing it. "Do
you want him to stop, Jen-san?" she asked a little louder.

The fingers abruptly moved away from me and I blinked, shaking my head
slowly. "No, I...I enjoy it." I looked into Fumiko's eyes trying to find
some understanding, but she seemed confused by my complicity. "It is a
secret pleasure."

"Is it?" Fumiko's voice sounded doubtful. "Very well. Take off your
panties then," she ordered.

"What? Fumiko..." I started to protest but the look in her eyes, the
realization that she could lose face in front of total strangers with
my refusal, broke my will. "Yes, Fumiko-san."

If there'd been enough room I would have bowed in apology, as it was I
slowly and somewhat clumsily worked my thong down my thighs, letting
gravity pull them to my ankles. I bent my knees, crouching straight
down to retrieve them, feeling the plug in my ass protesting the
unusual movement. I could also feel the eyes of several dozen people,
mostly men, but more than a few women as well, watching me. I stood
up, red faced and breathless, staring into Fumiko's eyes.

She took my red thong from my fingers silently, handing them to
someone behind me, presumably the man who had been touching me. "You
wanted to feel these?" Fumiko's voice was loud enough to attract even
more attention than we had already, if that was possible. I closed my
eyes and felt my body burning up. "Take them home and give them to
your daughter, pervert."

I don't know if Fumiko threw them in his face, or if he took them from
her hand, or if she just dropped them on the floor. I'd had my eyes
tightly shut and when I opened them again, all I knew was that I no
longer had any underwear at all. I felt horribly exposed like that, as
if everyone could see under my short skirt. I imagined people seeing
the bit of rubber from the base of the butt plug protruding from my
ass as I walked. Or the rings in my vagina, or the pearl on my clit. I
felt cold and hot all over and Fumiko just smiled at me, enjoying her
game immensely.

"Is it better now for you, Jen-san?" she almost giggled. "Now if a man
wants you, we will have to find something else to remove."

I swallowed nervously at the thought that Fumiko would make me remove
the plug from my ass in public. That would be too much, even for the
bizarre permissive world of Tokyo mass transit. Luckily, the rest of
our little trip was uneventful, despite my much too overactive
imagination.

Exiting Yokohama Station we took a taxi to the club and inside it was
much as I remembered it. There were a few dozen customers, even though
it was early, even by Japanese standards. Fumiko led me back, past the
bar and down the short hallway to the dressing room. There were three
Japanese girls inside, one of them I remembered as the girl in the
bikini who'd assisted Mistress Atsumi the night I'd been there. They
were all young, barely eighteen if I'd had to guess, and strikingly
beautiful. Fumiko largely ignored their respectful, if somewhat
playful greetings and introduced me quickly.

"This is Miki and her sister, Niya." Fumiko gestured at the two I
hadn't seen before. "And this is Ayu. Miki and Niya will perform
tonight, always together, so you will see what they are like." Fumiko
smiled and the girls nodded happily. "Ayu is Mistress Atsumi's
assistant, you've seen her before. We have six others, hostess girls
who will sit with the customers and sometimes perform on the stage.
You can meet them later."

"Are you a Russian?" Niya asked me and I shook my head, smiling and
telling them I'm American.

"See? I told you!" Miki laughed. "You're so stupid."

"I am not. She looks Russian!" Niya said as she removed what was
unmistakably a school uniform, like something out of a Sailor Moon
comic. Her sister was already naked, sitting on a metal folding chair
and working her small body into a white fishnet body stocking.

"How old are you?" I asked Niya, admiring her lithe body while trying
not to stare. It wasn't easy for the girls were twins, obviously, and
beautiful as I mentioned.

"That depends on who is asking!" Miki giggled.

"That's enough talking. They are sixteen now and they behave like
spoiled five year olds." Fumiko had been digging through some plastic
containers, finding what I would need for the evening. "You will be a
hostess tonight, Jen-san."

"We come here after school," Niya said. She was standing in her
panties now and she had a gymnist's body, very firm and toned, with
small breasts and the most wonderful ass I'd ever seen.

"We're very popular!" Miki laughed. She had the same perfect body as
her sister and she posed for me with her hands on her hips and tits
thrust outward invitingly.

"Popular with dirty old pedophiles," Fumiko retorted, pushing the girl
out of the way.

Atsumi appeared briefly, just looking into the small room. She barely
glanced at me, focusing instead on Fumiko and Atsumi told her to dress
me for working, but to make sure my breasts were bound again. I
started to speak, not understanding this at all, when Atsumi waved her
hand. "And a gag as well. She is beautiful, but I'm tired to hear her
voice now."

My Mistress disappeared then and that was perhaps the hardest lesson,
that in the club I would have to share her attentions and doubtless
there would be times when I would feel the lesser for it.

Fumiko pulled me along with her to the offices, where there was a
dressing room and several wardrobe closets, the temporary sort made of
cardboard and plastic that the Japanese favor. I tried asking Fumiko
what was going on, but she just told me she didn't know. The young
woman used a strange sort of gag that I'd never seen before. It was
made of hard rubber, red in color, and shaped like a very thin 'O'
that fit into my teeth, stretching my mouth open uncomfortably. There
were two thin straps that went to the back of my head. It felt strange
and I realized there was a depressor on the underside that effectively
trapped my tongue.

"Do not remove that," Fumiko warned me with a smile, but her eyes were
serious. "Or Mistress Atsumi will be unhappy with you."

Next she fitted my breasts with two thin leather belts, one around
each of my breasts, pulling them so tight I thought she'd cinch my
boobs right off my chest. I gasped as a fresh wave of pain awoke the
welts that I still sported. Fumiko pushed at my back, bending me over
so she could remove the plug in my ass. She helped me into a black
leather thong and then a pair of black fishnet stockings that came mid-
thigh. A pair of stiletto heels in black leather completed my
'uniform' and Fumiko stepped back to admire me.

"You will sit with customers. You're not a waitress, so you will sit
and do what they tell you to." She watched as I nodded. "I'll be close
by, so you won't have to worry. Nobod will hurt you."

I followed her down the hall and we exited through the bar where I was
immediately seized upon by a Japanese man sitting by himself. He
crooked his finger at me and I looked at Fumiko who nodded. I walked
over, having absolutely no idea what I was doing or what the man might
be expecting from me.

"I see you do not talk, eh?" The Japanese man was perhaps 40 years
old, with the superior attitude that I'd come to deplore in many of
the Japanese men I'd come into contact with. "Well, that's good,
because I don't want your mouth to talk, bitch."

The word sounded terrible in Japanese and it took me a moment to
recognize it. He told me to remove his penis and watched as I gave him
a blowjob with people waking past, or sitting nearby at their tables,
seeing me and commenting on the American woman. I was so embarrassed
by this I almost couldn't finish, but I had little choice anyway. My
mouth was locked open and eventually the man just grabbed a fistful of
my hair and moved my mouth up and down his cock the way he wanted
until he came with a rush of thin, salty semen.

Swallowing proved to be extremely difficult and I made quite a mess,
which did not make the Japanese man happy at all. I shrank away from
him as he voiced his opinion of American whores who couldn't even
swallow a man's cum properly. He slapped at my tits painfully and I
started crying, although more from outrage and embarrassment than any
real injury to my body.

Fumiko came over and I looked at her hopefully, certain that she would
protect me from this man. It wasn't my fault the man had cum all over
himself. If I hadn't had to wear this silly gag I could have given him
a real blowjob, didn't he know that? Fumiko, I was sure, would
straighten everything out.

"This stupid cow has ruined my trousers." The man pointed his finger
at me. "It's an insult and she did it deliberately."

"Is this true, Jen-san?" Fumiko stared at me and I couldn't believe my
ears. I shook my head vigorously.

"She's a lying bitch," the man pronounced and Fumiko nodded.

"She must be punished, sir. Will you do it?" She bowed to the man and
I felt my whole body flush with anger.

"Yes. Of course," he said and I waited silently, wondering what my
punishment would be.

Fumiko returned with a strange looking whip. It had a handle and seven
long flat strips of leather attached to it. I guessed it was for
flogging, similar to a cat o'nine tails, but slightly less abusive. I
would soon learn though that it was capable of producing quite a lot
of pain when used properly.

I was laid over the small round table on my back and I heard Fumiko
talking to the man. "Sir, this slave is still in training, only her
breasts may be punished."

The man grunted and lost no time flogging my breasts. He must have
used one before, because he had a way of snapping his wrist at
precisely the right instant to crack the ends over whichever part of
my skin he preferred. Invariably that seemed to be my nipples and I
was soon writhing in pain upon that small stage. A number of onlookers
had moved closer, commenting on the man's skill. I sobbed loudly, but
with the gag in my mouth it sounded like a curious mewling sound and
it got no response but laughter.

He flogged me for perhaps ten minutes, a good thirty or forty blows I
would imagine, maybe more. My tits were hot and dark red now, and
every touch on my flesh left a lingering stain of white. They burned
and I was swept up once again by an indescribable pleasant sensation
beneath it all, struggling to surface. My hips were moving, but not
jerking as the rest of me was, they were grinding as if searching for
something and I had my hands there eventually, pressing against my sex
as the last few blows fell.

The man noticed, as did more than a few others. "The bitch likes it!"
he laughed. "This was no punishment!" He dropped the whip on my
heaving belly and moved away from me.

"Come! Sit with me now." I barely had time to think before another man
was pulling me to my feet. Fumiko did nothing to interfere, she merely
picked up the whip, and so I followed the man as though I were
drugged. He was younger, maybe in his late twenties, and he brought me
to a table where two friends of his sat, also young men. "I am Keisu,
this is Aisen...and Tomasu. You are so beautiful. Why do you let them
do this to you?"

His words made very little sense. I was still trying to catch my
breath and it felt as if my whole body was throbbing with the fire
centered in my breasts. I looked at him, but of course I couldn't
speak.

It didn't really matter anyway, because despite the man's pleasant
manner and polite introductions, it soon became obvious that he and
his friends were only really interested in fucking an American. I had
no idea what I was expected to do, or even if there were limitations
to what I could do, so I did not resist. I pulled my thong to the side
and straddled them one at a time, facing them so they could play with
my abused tits while I rode their cocks with my stretched and ready
ass. It was what I'd been aching for and the men were very pleased
that they were making me cum so quickly and often. The truth is I
would have gotten off riding a doorknob; these guys were just in the
right place at the right time. But if I've learned anything, Japanese
men have egos made out of glass.

It was a very long night, the club did not close until 2am and by that
time I had sucked or fucked about a dozen men. I'd been punished three
times, always by a flogging across my tits. I had the belts removed
and put back on several times and that was even worse than the
floggings. When the bonds of my breast were removed and blood flowed
back into the bruised and oxygen starved cells, it was like the
floodgates to hell had been opened. It seemed the most painful thing
in the world for five or ten minutes and then the pain would subside
to a dull throbbing ache that never went entirely away.

Fumiko removed the gag from my mouth and it hurt just to close it. I
had to practice talking because my jaw had become so stiff. "You have
done very well tonight, Jen-san," my sister told me, for that was how
I thought of her now.

"I did not understand why you let that man punish me," I said slowly,
trying to pronounce the difficult words correctly with my aching jaws.
Fumiko looked at me, giving me a seductive smile. "But now...I
understand. Thank you, Fumiko-san." I bowed to her, very much wanting
her to know that I was learning.

"Quiet now, we will bathe and you'll go with Mistress Atsumi tonight."
She smiled at the look on my face, understanding that I thought myself
much too weary for more adventure. "We are like vampires, Jen-san. We
live at night, you will see. It's also for your training."

She smiled and led me to the small bath, frowning at Niya and Miki,
who were already inside, splashing each other playfully. She grabbed
the closest by her hair, but which of the twins it was I had no way of
knowing, and pulled the girl to her feet.

"Go home now, or I'll crucify you and leave you on stage for a week!"
Fumiko said, but the the girl only laughed and danced away, smiling at
me. The other one rose slowly, grabbing a towel as Fumiko slapped her
small round ass. "And you, I will have mounted by a dog!"

"Do you promise?" The girl giggled and hurried out before Fumiko could
spank her again.

"They are a terrible tease, don't you think?" Fumiko sighed and I
smiled, nodding my head.

"I have done that," I said as Fumiko washed me carefully.

"Done what?" She worked her soapy fingers into my ass and I gave a
little moan.

"Been mounted by a dog," I admitted. "By three dogs."

Fumiko laughed at that. "And did you enjoy it, Jen-san?"

"I did not think I enjoyed it so much at the time," I shrugged with a
smile of my own at the memory. "But now I can tell myself that yes, I
did enjoy it very much."

"Then I shall have to speak with your Mistress about a pet."

I looked up sharply, uncertain if the girl was teasing me or not, and
Fumiko laughed, giving me no clue as to her intentions.

I dressed in different clothes than I had arrived in. This was a
simple red cotton jumpsuit, like coveralls that a mechanic might wear.
The zipper went from my sex to a point midway between my swollen and
bruised breasts, leaving them exposed in a most obscene manner. I wore
no underwear, merely my buttplug and my collar. But it was comfortable
enough, even sexy, despite the utilitarian design of it. The shoes,
also, were an incongruous touch, with their 3" heels, but there was
little that could be done for that.

"Is she ready?" Mistress Atsumi walked in just as I was straightening
up and Fumiko brushed my hair quickly.

"Yes, Mistress," Fumiko replied and she turned to me, giving me a kiss
on the cheek. "She is perfect."

I didn't know what was going on, but I hurried after Mistress Atsumi,
falling into step behind her. She paused at the door, clipping her
leash to my collar and giving me a small smile. "I watched you very
closely tonight. I think you are learning, slave." 

"Thank you, Mistress." I lowered my eyes, blushing at the unexpected
praise.

"We will go someplace where you can rest. We have a home near Fuji-
san. It's a place where you will be safe and we will learn from each
other, I think. You've been busy; you're tired and you need to heal.
The city is not good for that." She looked outside briefly as a taxi
pulled up to the curb. "Tell me your thoughts now. Quickly, slave!"

"I love you, Mistress." What other thought could I have?

Once in the taxi I sat back, curling up against Mistress Atsumi as if
were a child again. I felt so tired. My entire body ached. There was
something else too; a small yearning to be back in my bed, dreaming
once more with the drugs I'd been given. It was only a tiny thing
though, the stirrings of an addiction I feared, and I tried to dismiss
it. For her part, Mistress Atsumi largely ignored me, sitting upright
and proper, staring straight ahead. Only her fingers betrayed any
interest in me whatsoever, playing slowly at the large zipper between
my breasts and occasionally brushing my tender flesh.

The ride was a long one, several hours even with the light traffic and
I fell asleep, only to be awakened by Atsumi's gentle voice in my ear.
"Wake up, Jen."

I blinked and smiled at the sound of my name and I knew we were home
at last.




end of Turning Japanese
rache696@yahoo.com

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