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Subject: {ASSM} A small park in Tokyo
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Date: Tue, 05 May 2015 15:10:13 -0400
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As I am not a native speaker, please excuse the mistakes.  I will
appreciate help in revising what I wrote.  Contact me at ducgab@gmail.com
   A small Tokyo park (MF,FF, sm,bd,humil,whip)
   In the little urban park, not far from the tracks of the Yamanote line,
there are no more than three or four benches, a brightly painted swing for
children, a few trees, some of which are hidden by thick bushes.  A little
concrete building hosts a public toilet.  In the crisp, cool air of a
spring early morning - the sun has yet to rise - a young woman, more than
twenty, not yet thirty, enters the park, walking with nonchalant grace. 
She wears a dark blue raincoat, with a large blue belt, made of the same
fabric of the coat, blue high heel shoes and carries a large, rigid
suitcase made in black leather.  She is petite.  Long black hair, parted in
the middle, arrives below her shoulders, her small but fleshy mouth shines
of a glossy light pink lipstick, curved in an imperceptible smile.  Her
large, almond shaped black eyes look ahead, with self-assured calmness. 
She sits on a bench, the legs slightly parted.  The rim of the coast
arrives just a little below her knees, leaving visible the curve of her
well-shaped calves.  The little park is deserted.  It is one of those
neighborhoods in central Tokyo that do not seem to belong to the largest
city in the world.  She looks like she is relaxing after having enjoyed a
morning walk, just before leaving for work, probably for one of the large
corporations typical of the Japanese business landscape.  A few minutes
later a man arrives, walking briskly.  He wears jeans, a white T-shirt and
a black leather jacket.  He is much older than her, surely beyond forty,
maybe already fifty.  However, he has none of the worn-out expressions and
mannerisms of the middle-age white collars that live in the city.  He is
still fit, the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth worn like a badge of
honor; they make him more attractive, rich of manly experience.  They
exchange a brief greeting, the girl smiles a little more; the man looks at
her concentrated as if he is weighting some possibilities.  He opens the
suitcase and extracts a coil of steel wire, a plier, and a smaller leather
box, which could contain a musical instrument, such as a flute or an oboe.
The man walks around the bench and places himself behind the girl.  He
quickly cuts two pieces of wires.  He takes from behind one of the wrists
of the girl, and pushes it against the rails of the bench, widely detaching
it from the rest of the body.  Then he secures it to the rails through the
wire, twisting repeatedly the extremities, until it is impossible for her
to free herself, or even to move it.  He repeats the same procedure with
the other wrists, and then he checks that the wire does not eat too deeply
into the flesh, such that the blood is still free to flow to the tips of
the fingers.  He walks in front of the girl.  She looks at him, and she
seems to test the bonds that tie her to the bench.  If she tried, her
attempts were futile.  He looks at her wrists.  From this point of view,
they seem nothing else than thin, shiny, sliver bracelets.  Silently, he
goes on working, as if she is an inanimate object.  Carefully he pulls a
little the coat's sleeves, to cover the wires: nobody can guess, without a
careful inspection, that she is not free.  Then he unbuttons the coat. 
Even if she guessed that this was going to happen, still she is blushing
furiously.  She is thinking that she is naked under the coat and she is now
helpless for him to do as he pleases.  But he does not touches her naked
flesh, just unbuttons the coat and leaves it closed through the firmly
secured belt.  Finally he parts the lower sides of it, such that the inner
part of her white thighs becomes visible, yet he does not open it so much
that the eye of a casual passerby might catch a glimpse of the point where
the thighs meet and the black hair of her pubis grows.  However, she is
immediately aware that the equilibrium by which the coat covers her is
precarious: a little distraction, a careless movement, and the slides could
slip and she could become on display for anybody to see, her tied hands
unable to protect her.  He gets the suitcase and places it on the ground in
between her feet.  It will be impossible now, if she ever wants, to close
the legs.  She will have to endure, for as long as he will decide, to be
accessible and vulnerable.  Holding the smaller suitcase he walks a little
farther to look at her.  Her face is still pink of shame; however, to the
passerby, she still might look like any other girl, resting on the bench,
maybe unwilling to stand up and face the day that starts, maybe a little
careless in the way is sitting.  He doesn't say anything; if he is
satisfied by his job and by her docility he doesn't betray.  He just says:
"Look at me." She is happy to comply, raises her eyes and looks at him,
smiling.  He just says: "I have to piss." She did really hope not to be
left alone, but she knows that she cannot object.  She sees him
disappearing and remains there, feeling the rays of the sun that slowly
rises.  In the next minutes nothing happens.  The park remains deserted;
she is left with her thoughts.  Very simple thoughts: she is contemplating
the idea of trying again to test her restraints and her possible degrees of
freedom.  But she is afraid that whatever would happen could remain
irreversible until he comes back.  So she chooses to stay as still as
possible, waiting patiently for his return.  At a certain point she becomes
aware of how her torso is stretched, her breasts pushed against the coat
and feels her little, pointy nipples brushing against the slightly rough
fabric.  For a moment she loses control of her breath - she is not sure of
what is happening - but quickly she regains her composure and calms down.
She returns to be aware of the silence around her, then suddenly she hears
the noise of steps approaching, first very faint, then closer.  Together
with regular, rhythmical steps, she can hear the sound of more irregular
movements, shaking the gravel of the park's foot walk.  Shame and fear mix
in her head, she would like to scream, but she knows that it would be an
irrational, unjustified reaction, what's more, utterly silly.  If she
shouts, she likes to think he will understand that she is in serious danger
and will come to rescue her.  But then their relationship, whatever the
reason for it to be, would end and she would never know where it would take
her.  Remaining cool proves to be the right choice.  It is only a little
dog, running aimlessly up and down.  Few moments later his owner comes.  It
is a woman only a few years older than her.  Probably every morning she
takes her pet for a little walk before going to work.  The dog, a furry
little spaniel, white and brown, continues searching for something, then he
looks up to her owner and then, reassured, continues exploring the
surroundings.  The lady, elegant and perfectly groomed, hardly pays
attention to him.  She is absorbed by her mobile phone, which she checks
continuously, typing quickly from time to time emails or messages.  The dog
passes in front of the girl, without noticing her...but then stops, returns
on his steps and stands just in front of her, looking at her curiously,
with the head slightly tilted.  She looks at him, trying to read his mind,
trying to send the most reassuring message, hoping that he will continue
his walk and forget about her.  But, maybe challenged by her look, sensing
something wrong, he starts barking furiously.  The girl gets anxious: there
is no reason to be afraid of this little dog; the owner is there ready to
take charge if anything shall happen.  Still she starts imagining things,
she imagines that he might try to assault her, that he might scratch her
thighs with his claws.  Distracted by the idea of this threat, she has a
small, imperceptible movement, an automatic reaction with the purpose of
protecting herself.  It is already late when she realizes that the coat has
opened a little more between the legs, and looking down she can see that
she has uncovered a large portion of the dark hair on her pubis, for
anybody to see.  She tries to close her legs, but the suitcase blocks any
useful movement, actually the simple trial achieves the unwanted result to
help the coat slip further down her thighs.  In the meanwhile the dog keeps
looking and barking, until he achieves the result of distracting her owner
from her phone.  She comes, half hurrying, half annoyed"What is it?" then
she sees her and adds:" Excuse me, he is adorable, but he is a little..."
here she stops, because she has finally taken a good look at her and she
understands that what has called her dog's attention is an half-naked girl,
dressed apparently only in a blue raincoat, showing casually her private
parts.  Now she thinks that her dog's reactions are more than right, his
surprise, expressed by his barking, quite natural.  The two women look at
each other, the bond girl cannot help blushing and hopes in a little
sympathy, even if it is too complicated to explain what got her in this
predicament, still she hopes that the dog owner will understand her , help
readjusting the coat and leave.  The dog owner gets closer to her dog and
put the leash on him.  Then, leading the dog, come close to inspect her. 
"It is a beautiful morning." "Yes it is"., replies the bond girl.  "Do you
live around here?" "Not really.." "Otherwise I should have noticed you
before, I guess..." comments the dog owner, smiling.  "It seems that I am
not the only one to take out my pet in the morning...where is your owner?"
She understands now that the lady will not help her, actually she is
enjoying her humiliation.  "I am nobody's pet and I have no owner..." she
replies, indignant.  "Of course...then you are alone...but you are
perfectly fine, right?" "I am." She says, hoping that by now she has
satisfied her curiosity and will leave her alone.  But this woman seems
ready to play a larger role in this story, and she is not ready to go so
easily.  She gets closer; the dog is silent now, stares at the girl with
his large, humid eyes The woman now gets so close that she stands now in
between her parted legs.  "I don't know why you are so shy" the woman says
suddenly, opening the coat wide with both hands, uncovering her breasts,
her belly and the carefully trimmed hair of her sex.  Now the blue belt is
just a marker sign, separating the upper and the lower part of her body. 
"Maybe you needed help ... or maybe you are ashamed of your little boobs
and tiny" she adds, maliciously, pinching the dark nipples with the tip of
her fingers.  It is a small but sharp pain, she is used to endure much
more. The woman releases her grip and of course the nipples remain
standing, caressed by light breeze that keeps them awaken.  "Open your
pussy for me, I need to see." The woman says.  "Only another woman can
really look and appreciate the fine details and differences, the beauty of
it " she adds.  The girl looks at her, suddenly unsure if she will meet the
woman's expectations.  It is clear that is a woman different from her, used
to give order, to say no.  She speaks in a way that makes her eager to
please.  She starts to open her legs, slowly.  The woman just looks and
says.:"Yes...a little more..." She can feel her body opening, she can feel
rivulets of air insinuating in her lower little mouth.  She wonders if the
woman will like her and will be satisfied.  "It is like if the petals of a
flower are unfolding" the woman says smiling, and the girl actually feels
the outer lips blooming.  She focuses on this delicious feeling and closes
her eyes to enjoy even more that sensation.  In that very moment she hears
a click.  She opens her eyes and, sure enough, the woman is pointing her
phone to her inner parts and snapping pictures.  The girl is shocked by
this violation of privacy and trust.  "It is better if you smile, you will
appear less pathetic" the woman says coldly.  The girl cannot help looking
at the camera, she cannot hide, and she cannot control her expression,
maybe the curves of her lips will be read as a smile, maybe she will look
like a shameless slut, a proud woman, or really just a pathetic pet girl.
But the dog owner does not feel she owes her even to share the pictures she
stole.  After a few further shots of her full figure, she returns to insist
at the details of her exposed sex, of her exposed breasts.  Then, suddenly
she looks at her watch.  "I guess it's time to go.  You have made my
day...interesting." She turns when she is almost at the park's exit and
snaps a few other shots.  It is like she wants to keep the idea of where
and how she found her, the bench, the trees, and the gravel.  Then the
woman starts to play with the phone, the girl realizes that the pictures
will not be confined to her phone and her eyes, but she is sharing them
with her lover, or maybe even with her friends.  When they will meet, they
will look at them together and they will laugh of that silly exhibitionist
of the park.  But now she is alone again.  The wait is unbearable.  She
looks at her exposed body, now very little is hidden.  She looks at the
tense muscles of her stomach.  The sun is warmer now, she feels it
caressing her naked skin, like a hand following her curves.  She looks
around.  She understands that is getting later than she expected.  She
starts being truly afraid that the next person might not be as detached as
the dog owner.  She does not understand why he is not back.  She still
thinks that in any case she will be safe, that if anything bad is going to
happen, he will come and rescue her.  Yet, they never discussed such a
possibility and they do not have an agreement even on what it should happen
next.  Maybe he has decided to abandon her here, as an unwanted cat, until
somebody will come and will decide, in the best case, to free her. 
Actually it is taking too long for a simple pee.  Now she start thinking
that she might be late at work, or will not be able to show up, and that
she will need to inform her boss.  Inwardly she laughs thinking that she
could simply say:" I spent the morning naked tied to a bench in a park, not
too far from the office." The comic interlude is short, she goes back to
feel the silence and the solitude.  The quietness of this park starts to
feel eerie.  She reclines her head and closes her eyes.  She might just try
to sleep and forget everything, maybe she will wake up and this is just a
dream.  With the eyes closed, of course the sounds become more intense. 
Far away, at the very periphery of her hearing, she perceives the sound of
a quiet movement that remains there, for a while, until she realizes that
is moving slowly toward her.  She opens her eyes: it's him, walking slowly
toward her.  She sighs with relief.  "Sorry - he is actually smiling - I
found an interesting tree and I could not resist preparing it for later. 
Anything interesting happened here?  I see you could not resist flashing
your pussy..." The smile has turned into an ironic smirk - she would like
to protest, make it clear that she wanted to resist but could not, but all
she can say is:" A woman with a dog passed by and took a few pictures..."
"By now you should be famous in the internet then - he insists, with the
same ironic tone - but now we have to go, we are running out of time." He
walks behind her, unties the steel wires from the rails, but he binds them
together, such that she remains handcuffed with the hands on her back.  He
makes her stand and without notice starts walking quickly toward the side
of the park, where he came from, where the vegetation is thicker.  She has
no better choice that following sheepishly, while he doesn't bother looking
to check if she is behind him.  Of course he doesn't mind that the dog
owner has left her disheveled; he has left her with the open coat and now
she has to hurry clumsily behind him, the breasts bouncing, the equilibrium
made unstable by hands tied on the back, by the high heels.  She starts
wondering what he meant by preparing a tree, but this become clear when
they reach the broad pine, partially covered by the bush.  Multiple loops
of a thick rope are secured at mid height through the trunk.  The man takes
the coat with her docile help, folds it and put it on a patch of grass. 
She looks around, timidly, she is aware that, apart from the shoes, her
white, slightly opaque body is fully exposed in a little park in central
Tokyo.  She looks intently at the apartment blocks around and wonders if
the windows are far enough or if somebody is peeping at her behind them. 
Now the man unties her and secures the hands to the tree, suspended at the
sides of her head, such that she is facing it and offers him her back.  He
takes advantage of her white buttocks: she reads, in the hands that explore
the softness of her skin and the roundness of her curves, his desire.  She
is proud of her small, yet high and firm ass.  Then, he kneels at her feet
and secures loosely one end of a steel wire to the left ankle and the other
end to right one.  The ankles are not firmly tight together, but a certain
length of the wire has been left, such that, if she tries to close her
legs, the half rigid wire will oppose a certain resistance, similar to a
spring.  He takes a white handkerchief from his pocket, folds it and places
it in her mouth, such that she can bite it.  "You will need this.  We don't
want to make a scene and draw unwanted attention." She nods, can she escape
now?  She is his willing victim.  All that she knows is that she will be
whipped, beaten or slapped, as long and as hard as it pleases him.  It is
will be the latest test of her endurance; she wishes will not be the last.
What he will be using this time?  He is exactly behind her, invisible, she
tries to turn her head, but this does not help.  She hears a whirl in the
air, a compact, buzzing sound.  She knows he has swung his weapon of
choice. Then, while she is tense by the expectation, the blow arrives and
strikes a large portion of her right buttock.  She understands it might be
a stick or a paddle, covered by rubber, such that it adheres perfectly to
her skin for a short excruciating moment.  Her guess is close: actually is
a common table-tennis racquet whose surface has a royal blue coating.  The
blows arrive, one after the other.  The first ones land casually, with
medium strength, yet they make the ass crimson red.  Initially she tries to
take them bravely, she tries to deny the pain, focusing on the fact that
she knows that this ordeal will be over.  But suddenly the strength of the
blows increases, the hitting becomes more methodic, starting from the upper
quarter of her right buttock, then to the left, and then going to the lower
quarters, continuing relentlessly, until he is satisfied and pauses for a
very short moment, before setting to the next task.  It seems that he has
an aim in his job, and indeed her ass in now almost uniformly becoming a
dark purple.  He focuses on the few remaining spots where the flesh
maintains a pinker colour, addressing new strong, inexorable blows to these
parts.  She cannot hold back the tears.  She is grateful now for the
handkerchief, that she is biting, almost chewing, such that is has become
soaked with her saliva.  He stops and grabs the left cheek, spreading the
flesh around her rear entrance, still white, until it does not crease and
turn brownish around her anus; an area which the plump shape of her bottom
has protected.  Of course he does not stop.  With accurate strokes he hits
also here, until he feels that his job his complete and stops.  "Your ass
is beautiful" he admits.  She is relieved now - it was not as bad as she
thought.  She has handled herself well.  She releases the tension in her
body and the pain of course does not go away, but reaches her center, soaks
her completely and makes her feel alive.  It is when she savors this
sensation that the new blow arrives, intense and precise like the sting of
a very poisonous wasp.  She has no time to think or react: new blows
arrive, quickly, one after the other, in rapid succession.  She thought
that everything was over, she is not ready for this, if not for the
handkerchief she would be shouting.  The legs move frantically trying to
escape the blows, but the crude way her legs are bound together make her
attempts futile, if not silly.  She can feel her flesh being cut, the smell
of her blood slowly penetrating the air.  The whip made of coiled steel
wires that he is using has maximum effect now on her ass, made tender and
vulnerable by the table tennis racquet.  Her face is a mask of sweat.  But
this time also the end comes, and this time is for good.  He let her rest
for a while.  When he feels that her breath has become more regular, she
takes the handkerchief, unties the feet, the hands, and covers her with the
blue raincoat.  They head for the public toilet building and she follows
him in the male section.  Luckily it is empty and sparking clean.  He takes
the coat again, asks her to put the hands on the sink and puts delicately
the hands at her waist, pushing her ass high.  He unzip his trousers and
she feels his penis brushing her back.  It is time for his retribution
after the hard job.  He looks at the dark entrance at the back and to the
glistening pink lips which hide the front entrance.  He smells the sweet
fragrance of her womanhood and cannot resist.  He puts a condom and slides
his cock inside.  The creamy fluid of her excitement seems overflow her
pussy.  The thrusts are quick and effective: no need to hold back.  She
breathes quickly, the body restrained but her mouth unable to control her
moans.  In a few minutes he has come inside her.  For a while he covers her
body with his, remaining inside, until his pleasure subsides.  She would
like to have him inside her forever.  He slides out, unfolds the condom,
she kneels and cleans him with her lips, while he caresses her hair.  She
stands, he says: "I have to leave now." Of course.  They have nothing else
to share, nothing else to say.  He waves goodbye and she is alone.  She
turns her back to the mirror and look at her ass.  It is an ample red
globe, crisscrossed by the open cuts of the final whipping, stretched flesh
which releases blood droplets , spread unevenly but abundantly on the whole
surface.  The dog owner is not alone in liking memory pictures.  It is her
turn now.  She cleans herself roughly, drying with the paper towels of the
automatic distributor such that, when she leaves, it will not be too
obvious her status of distress.  She takes the racquet and the whip, dirty
of her sweat and her blood, and put them back in the bag, taking mental
notice that she will have to wash them.  She wears the raincoat back on her
nude body and leaves with the black suitcase, just when an old man,
surprised by her presence, is entering the toilet building.
They will not be able to meet for many days.  The intensity of the
whipping will require many days to heal.  She will go to work, every day
and whenever she sits, she will be reminded of the harsh usage the man did
of her body.  Not only, every day, in the morning and in the evening , she
will take picture of her exploited buttocks, which she will post to him, as
a remainder of his presence on her body.  In the study room, on the last
floor of the small detached house where he lives, he is working with his
computer, restless.  The mail he is waiting for arrives, he opens it, the
picture of the naked whipped ass covers the full screen.  He feels the
restlessness resolved, his penis becomes stiff, his eyes wander of the
minute details of the flesh displayed in front of him.  He owns that body,
and he treats it as capriciously as he wants.  Yet something escapes him.
That body owns him, because more she abandons herself to him, more her
blind trust traps him.  He cannot hold her, whispering sweet words, but he
needs to violate her body, to penetrate her holes without mercy, such that
he pushes her away as far as possible , such that he gets a short moment of
release from his addiction.  One day a photo will arrive on the monitor
where the skin will be white and unblemished.  He will know that she has
healed, that she badly needs him, and that they are ready to meet again. 
-- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. 
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