SATOMI

BY CHRISTOPHER TOILKIEN

Satomi was sore all over.

Her wrists, ankles, waist, neck, and chest were sore where his rope work had bound her. Throat sore from screaming and stomach contracting from lack of food. Even her skin, which had been the canvas upon which his masterwork had been performed, was sore. Such had been her existence for a long as she could remember.

Every dawn he had unlocked the tiny cage that was her allotted space, lead her by the choke chain to the main room of his very traditional Japanese house, washed, dried and dressed her in her school uniform for school. And after handing her the backpack and meager lunch stood with her, and other students until the bus arrived. After school, when the bus dropped her off, there he was waiting to walk her home, undress her, wash her, put the collar around her neck, and helped with her homework. Then the shared evening meal of rice and fruit, eaten in the traditional manor followed by her perfect performance of the ancient tea ceremony he had taught her, with the aid of a switch when he first bought her, two years ago.

Led back to the main room, he would gag her with the panties she had worn all day, and prepared his canvas by stretching her spread eagle in the center of the room. Sometimes upright, sometimes face up, sometimes facedown. Then came the scariest part, as she watched him prepare his tattoo needles. For until he started, she had no idea which part of her pre-teen female body he would continue to create his masterwork on.

She awoke to another day. The pain of his last night’s work on her body still throbbed. He had uncharacteristically continued to work on her half the night to complete a chrysanthemum directly around her hairless sex. But for some reason had not confined her to the cage as normal. . It was almost all she could do to roll off her sleeping mat and crawl to the bathroom. After completing her toilet she helped herself to some of the painkillers he provided. These were to make sure she did not draw any attention to them by missing school.

Then she returned to her room and slowly put on a newly pressed school uniform. But underpants were just too painful to wear. She would just have to be careful. Her owner, prepared all the traditional food, cleaned the house and did all the laundry. As far as she knew, except for grocery shopping and attending the nearby bathhouse, he never left their traditional house and garden surrounded by a wood and whicker wall. Money seemed no problem as both the house and their clothes were of the finest quality. He wore only traditional male kimo’s and sandals.

Except for being used as a piece of canvas, her life as a piece of property was much better than it had been in the huge impersonal orphanage she had grown up in. Just one of hundreds of little girls until he picked her out from a lineup of nude little pre-teens in the superintendents office two years ago. When she had been brought to the house, she could not sleep a wink on the first night. Both the unaccustomed silence of her new surroundings and the expectance of rape kept her huddled fearfully in a corner.

But in the morning he silently came in, stood her up, gently undressed her trembling body and led her through traditional sliding doors to a modern bathroom complete with a huge copper tub full of steaming water. He picked her up and stood her in it. Then carefully washed first her hair and the rest of her body. Next a fluffy white toweling. Still without a word, he led her back into the main room and positioned her, legs spread, hands on head while he visually examined every inch of her body. He then pushed her down to the lotus position and sat himself down in front of her.

“I purchased your body as a canvas for my masterwork, tattooing your body as mine was” He stood up and dropping his robe, slowly rotated, displaying a body completely covered from the neck down with elaborate tattoos of Japanese dragons, heroic Samurai, mystical figures.

Redressing and sitting back down, he continued. “I promise to feed, cloth, and see to your complete education if you submit freely to my work. Every day you must go to school and successfully pass each year. But I must tell you that your body will have to be strictly bound to ensure a stationary canvas. I have no interest in you sexually, except disobedience will bring a spanking. Do you agree?”

Satomi thought of a life as just one more poorly housed, inadequately fed and minimally educated orphan.

“Yes, I agree” she had meekly replied.

But today her owner did not appear. So for the first time in two years she had to feed herself morning cereal and milk. But she did find her lunch in the cooler and remembered to clean and put everything back were it should be, just in case. Then she grabbed her schoolbag and went to stand at the bus stop.

Things went downhill from there. Standing at the bus stop with other kids, she found that her, and the other girl’s main problem would be keeping their skirts down on what turned out to be a quite breezy day. Pubescent boys are quite adept at standing back and watching for the delightful flash of white female panty.

Satomi made it all the way to school without exposure, but while lining up to enter a sudden breeze whipped up most of the line of girl’s skirts, pleasing the boys, but annoying the girls. Satomi thought she had escaped notice, but as soon as she went into class the teacher scooted her towards the principals office.

As in most first class Japanese grade schools, the principle was a stern disciplinarian, responsible for both the scholastic and personal honor of the school. Principle Matai was surprised to hear a star pupil had arrived at school without underwear, and was actually eager to literally get to the bottom of the affair. Especially hers. His supply of switches was second to none.

When Satomi entered, she bowed and stood waiting to hear why.

“Satomi, the yard master thought he observed you not wearing any underwear today, why?”

“It is just to painful to wear any, honorable Principle”

“Why?”

“ I Have been tattooed by my master, in a very sensitive place, honorable Principle” Stated Satomi, reaching down and raising her knee length blue pleated skirt, and spreading her legs wide for the principles benefit.

The elated male dropped to one knee to examine the presented hairless sex of this delightful female.

“Most remarkable. A very excellent piece of work. But is there more?”

“Yes honorable principle. But I would have to completely strip to show you.”

The eager principle was shaking as he activated the intercom on his desk.

“Hold my calls and no visitors until I tell you.” He told his secretary.

Positioning himself on the comfortable sofa in his office, he said; “Show me”

Satomi began as taught, to slowly disrobe. First button by button, her white schools blouse, then pulled it free of the skirt. Next the clasp of the wrap around skirt, rolling it up around her body as she turned in place. Then she shrugged the loose blouse of one shoulder then the next, followed by dropping it on his desk beside her. That left only her white knee high socks and black saddle shoes. Then she slowly revolved, showing off her tattoos.

Matai, in all his years of teaching had never seen a young female so willing to strip. He remembered many he had chastised on bare bottoms with both his hand and a switch. Some to escape dishonor through expulsion had unwillingly performed oral sex on him. But none had stripped completely. This little pre-teen delighted him immensely, as he wondered how she would respond to the thrashing with a cane and the demand for oral sex to follow. Meanwhile he viewed her perfect little body.

A long dragon wound it’s way from her left hip across her chest with it’s snarling mouth s across her budding breasts. One claw descended to clasp a crisanthimen surrounding her little sex slit. Two Samurai warriors adorned her upper arms and two mounted samurai battled across her smooth back. Around each, large design a myriad of Japanese mythical creatures flowed through classical landscapes. Over most of her body, normally hidden by her school uniform, just about every inch was covered in intertwining tattoos, from under her pert rear to neckline. The colors were brilliant and the degree of details unbelievable. Her entire body was a perfect work of art.

“Very nice, but it does not excuse you from punishment. You know the position, I will retrieve a switch”

Satomi spread her legs as wide as she could and bent forward, hands gripping ankles in one of the classic female submissive positions her owner had taught her. This one was hard to keep your balance, but unbeknown to her, the principle had decided to assist her. Looking up she saw him standing right in front of her, struggling to release his swollen male member. As trained, she willingly opened her mouth to receive it.