I AM NOT ASHAMED 15

THE MEGUMI STORIES
BY MEGUMI KATO AND FRIENDS

VOLUME 03: I AM NOT ASHAMED
BY KIMIKO KOBAYASHI AND MEGUMI KATO

CHAPTER XV

The Third Test

The next day I received my instructions for the Friday 
night party. 

Dear Kimiko, 

Well, you've done fine so far. We hope you realised 
Sachiko is a friend of ours and that you didn't just 
meet her by chance? [I hadn't realised anything of the 
sort but I had given up being surprised by anything to 
do with Shizue and Tomoko.] 

But now for the ultimate Test of whether you are 
worthy to join us. Are you ready for it? On Friday at 
6:30 precisely you will go to the address shown on the 
enclosed slip. Memorise it carefully, then shred it. 
You will wear your office uniform, of course, but will 
take your party clothes with you. That means only your 
dress, the g-string that goes with it, your shoes and 
your gloves: no tights or underwear. 

The man who opens the door will be your Master for the 
evening. You will do everything he says without fail 
and without a moment's hesitation. See you at the 
party! 

- Tomoko and Shizue 

That evening at home I gave myself a thorough 
maintenance session, plastering my arms and legs with 
depilatory cream to burn off any black fuzz which 
might spoil their ivory smoothness. I washed my hair 
and painted my finger- and toenails silver to match my 
dress. When my nails were dry I carefully trimmed my 
pubic hair into a neat curly patch, cutting away any 
long hairs around my pussy. Finally I drank twice from 
the little teapot which was still standing on the 
bathroom shelf where I had left it, pleased that I was 
now able to swallow rhythmically as my mouth filled, 
not missing a drop. I hoped I would be permitted to 
demonstrate my new skill! When I at last emerged from 
the bathroom, my mother had dinner ready. 

"Are you going to a nice party tomorrow, dear?" 

"Oh, yes! I'm looking forward to it so much!" 

"That's nice. I'm glad you're going out more, and 
enjoying yourself. Have you found any special 
boyfriend yet?" 

"No ... not really. Just friends that it's nice to be 
with ..." 

"All right, dear, I don't want to pry. Enjoy yourself 
while you're young. Marriage will come soon enough," 
she added with a sigh. 

"Yes ... I may be late back tomorrow - you won't 
worry, will you?" 

"That's all right. I'll probably still be up - you 
know, waiting for your father to come in. He usually 
works late on a Friday." 

We smiled at each other, knowing very well what 
"working late" meant: a long evening of drinking and 
being entertained by bar hostesses at the company's 
expense. 

As soon as work was over on Friday I hurried to my 
usual subway station near the office. My heart was 
beating fast with excitement, and I could feel my hand 
sweating as I clutched the shiny carrier-bag with the 
clothes I was to wear for the evening that awaited me. 
With my company commuting ticket I took the train and 
after changing once arrived at Omotesando Station. The 
little map my friends had given me with the address 
was fairly easy to remember and, after only a few 
false starts and with the help of the blue-and-white 
address notices fixed to walls on the corners of the 
narrow streets, I arrived at the building they had 
specified a few minutes ahead of the appointed time. 

I pressed the button beside number six at the entrance 
to the smart, modern apartment block. There was a 
small label by the button with some faded characters 
written on it, but I was too excited to spend time 
puzzling out the name in the dark. There was a click 
from the speaker of the intercom, but no one said 
anything. 

"This is Kobayashi here," I said hesitantly after a 
few moments. 

Again there was no voice from the speaker, but the 
lock of the front door at once began to buzz. I pushed 
the door open and found myself in a lobby coolly 
decorated in grey and blue. There were two elevators 
in the far wall, one of them standing open. I entered 
and pressed the little panel marked "Apt 5 & 6". 

The door of Apartment 6 opened as I approached it. A 
man stood looking at me from the doorway, dressed only 
in a black polo-shirt and dark slacks and with his 
feet bare. He was very tall for a Japanese. He said 
nothing. 

"Good evening," I said shyly, "I am Kobayashi." 

"You are on time," he said. "Good." He pointed down 
the corridor to the left of the little entrance hall. 
"Go to the end room and change. You may leave your 
office clothes there." 

I stepped neatly out of my office shoes and up onto 
the carpeted area beside him. 

"Thank you. Please forgive my intrusion." 

"You will address me as Master." He used the English 
word, pronouncing it _Masuta_, rather than the 
Japanese word _sensei_. 

"I understand, Master." 

I bent down to turn my shoes to point towards the 
door - a useless gesture as I would be wearing my new 
silver high-heels when I left, but these things are 
automatic to me as a Japanese - bowed to him, and 
walked down the corridor in my stockinged feet, 
clutching my carrier bag. 

The room to which he had directed me was the main 
bedroom of the apartment. It was tidy and equipped 
with modern bedroom furniture including a large 
double-bed and two comfortable armchairs. The pictures 
on the walls were a series of enlarged black-and-white 
photographs of exquisitely beautiful naked girls, all 
shown at the moment of orgasm. Some of the pictures 
were close-ups of their ecstatic faces, but in most 
the whip or the cock which had granted them such 
pleasure could be seen too, lovingly embracing them or 
thrust deep into arse, cunt or mouth. It was humbling 
to imagine that I might one day be thought worthy of 
joining such spectacular company. I did not wish to 
keep the Master waiting, however, so quickly removed 
my office clothes and arranged them neatly on one of 
the chairs. Then, naked, I took my handbag into the 
en-suite bathroom. This too was very tidy, with 
masculine toilet articles neatly laid out and a 
pleasant but indefinably male smell. 

He had said nothing about permitting me time for a 
shower and I dared not make him impatient. But I also 
wanted to be fresh and at my best for him, and for the 
others who I expected would want to use me during the 
evening. So I allowed myself a few minutes under the 
hot water, relishing the needle-sharp spray as it 
stung my skin and made me fantasise about the delights 
of the evening ahead. Would they want to ...? I did so 
hope they would - but there was no point in trying to 
guess. All I knew was that they would have prepared 
some very special and wonderfully thrilling things to 
do to me, and that my Test meant accepting them 
eagerly and without constraint. Part of the pleasure 
for me was not knowing in advance what they would be 
and what they would feel like. 

It was strange, but ever since I had entered on my new 
life on my return from Kyoto, I had had quite a lot of 
straight sex but not a single taste of the whip. I had 
naively expected the opposite - that men would somehow 
tell from just looking at me what I most wanted, and 
rush to give it to me. But neither the lover I had 
shared with Shizue nor any of the men I had served in 
the Pink Salon with Sachiko had shown the slightest 
interest in binding me or whipping me. Never mind, I 
thought, tonight would make up for all that! My body 
tingled as I tried to imagine the delicious torments 
awaiting me. I patted myself dry with the big towel, 
brushed my hair and scented myself delicately with the 
perfume I carried in my handbag, paying special 
attention to my breasts and pussy. Then I walked back 
into the bedroom. 

"I wonder," I thought to myself. Very daring, I pulled 
open the drawer of the bedside table. Yes, there they 
were just as I had dreamt of them: dildos and 
vibrators, of course, but also a couple of long whips 
and the kind of cat I most loved - its slim lashes 
embellished with little hard knots which would prickle 
my skin so delightfully. I pulled it from the drawer 
and ran the sweet lashes through my fingers. Oh, it 
had been so long! Surely no one would mind if I just 
swished the lovely cat round my bottom once or twice 
... but forcing myself to wait a few hours longer was 
part of the pleasurable torment the evening had in 
store for me. I made myself put the cat back where it 
belonged, and concentrated on laying the contents of 
the carrier bag out on the big bed. 

Tomoko and Shizue had been very specific. I was to 
wear the silver dress, gloves and shoes and nothing 
else: no tights and no underwear other than the little 
matching g-string. I began with that: the tiny 
triangle just covered my trim patch of curly hair, and 
I tied the strings in neat matching bows on my hips. 
It took a few minutes to squeeze myself into the tight 
sheath of the dress, pulling in my stomach and 
pinching my waist to make it possible for the zip 
fastener to travel over the swell of my bottom up to 
the middle of my back. At last it was done, and I 
could tie the thin straps of the halter top behind my 
neck, letting my hair fall smoothly to hide the bow. 

The gloves too were tight but slipped on easily, 
turning my hands and arms to a smooth gleaming silver 
which prettily complemented the glittering dress. I 
was uncertain what to do about my shoes. Normally I 
would have carried them barefoot through the 
apartment, putting them on only as I stepped down into 
the little tiled lobby behind the front door. My 
Master had been barefoot when he admitted me, I 
recalled. But the shoes were clean and brand-new, and 
this was a Western, fully-carpeted apartment - in any 
case I immodestly wanted to see from his eyes, as I 
came down the corridor, whether my outfit met his 
expectations. So I put them on, clipping the slender 
chains round my ankles and relishing the elegant, 
teetering look the long slim heels gave my bare legs 
as I examined myself in the full-length mirror. 

In the event he gave me no clue, but nor did he 
criticise me for wearing shoes on his carpets. 

"I am sorry to have kept you waiting, Master," I said 
submissively as I joined him in the entrance. 

He said nothing. He was wearing a light grey jacket 
over his polo-shirt, and now had on socks and shoes 
himself. He took me by the elbow and led me out of the 
apartment and back into the elevator. I pressed the 
signal for the first-floor entrance. 

"No," he said, pressing another, "we are going to the 
garage." 

"Please forgive me," I murmured, though in fact the 
heat-sensitive panel had failed to respond to my 
gloved finger. 

In the garage he guided me to a gleaming black foreign 
car. It was a Mercedes - I recognised the 
three-pointed star on the front, but have no idea 
which type it was. When we had taken our places he 
pulled a blindfold from his jacket pocket. 

"My friends and I do not want you to know where you 
are being taken, Kimiko-san," he said. 

It gave me a little thrill to hear my Master use my 
name for the first time. 

"If you wish to blindfold me, Master, I shall of 
course accept it willingly," I said daringly, "but if 
it is your order that I shut my eyes and do not 
attempt to see where you are taking me, you may trust 
me to obey you absolutely." 

He looked at me for a moment, then smiled. 

"Very well," he said, slipping the blindfold back into 
his pocket. "That will be a good test of your 
submission." 

I could tell of course that we were driving back along 
Omotesando and then turning right onto Aoyama-dori 
heading towards Shibuya. But then I lost track. 
Perhaps he deliberately took a complicated route so as 
to confuse me. It is not easy to keep your eyes shut 
while you are awake, especially in a moving car, but I 
soon learnt to resist the temptation to blink and 
settle my eyelids more comfortably. In any case it was 
pleasant to sit beside my Master with my eyes 
obediently closed, the smooth black leather coolly 
sensuous against my bare thighs and back, an exquisite 
balance of desire and fear building up inside me as I 
tried to guess what he and his friends were planning 
to do to me ... After thirty minutes or so the car 
began to zigzag through the tangled maze of a 
residential area, until at last I felt the gravel of a 
short drive under the wheels. We stopped, and I heard 
my Master get out. 

"You may look now," he said as he opened my door for 
me. 

I scrambled out as best I could in my tight, short 
dress and gazed around curiously. As my eyes adapted 
to the light I saw that I had come to a large house 
with some space for a garden: the kind of residence 
only the richest and most important foreign 
businessmen could afford. While the tenant or owner 
might have been a wealthy Japanese I doubted it: such 
men preferred the more discreet extravagance of a 
traditional house. Another car was pulling away ahead 
of us, and a man politely took the keys of ours. 

The front door was opened by a pretty Asian maid: she 
was Filipina or Thai, I guessed. Apart from 
high-heeled black shoes and a shiny black g-string 
glittering in the light she was wearing only 
wrist-length gloves and a housemaid's cap to show her 
status. She did not seem to find her charming 
near-nudity at all embarrassing or unusual. Obviously 
sex-parties were familiar events in this house, and it 
was part of her job to dress appropriately. My Master 
put out his free hand and lightly stroked her naked 
bottom; she smiled happily in response and greeted us 
both politely, indicating a pair of double-doors 
through which lively conversation could be heard. 

There was another couple waiting in the hall. They 
turned to welcome us, the woman - tall, with short 
fair hair - smiling at me encouragingly while the man 
greeted my Master and then looked me over with frankly 
sexual interest. I began to tremble slightly with 
excitement: surely they both knew very well what 
wonders of delicious torment were waiting for me just 
the other side of those doors. Had they been given 
parts to play in what was to come? Was the man already 
imagining my body squirming delightedly under his whip 
- would I soon be desperately begging his companion to 
twist the clamps ever more cruelly tight as they bit 
lusciously into my firm, eager breasts? I began to 
feel a little giddy ... my breath shortened with 
excitement, the juice began to gather in my helplessly 
expectant pussy ... 

"Are you all right, Kimiko?" asked my Master. 

Without waiting for an answer he took me into a small 
room to one side of the hallway, and let me sit for a 
while. 

"I'm so sorry, Master," I stammered, "I'm better now. 
It's just that I have been so looking forward to this 
evening, it's been so long since anyone last ... you 
know, and all the wonderful things you are planning to 
do to me - it's so exciting to know that in a few 
minutes ... and yet not to know what is going to 
happen to me ... Oh, you are all _so_ kind and good to 
me!" 

"Take your time," he said kindly. "You do love being 
submissive, don't you?" 

"Oh, _yes_!" I said, sitting forward eagerly in my 
chair. "Now that I know ... you see I didn't _know_ 
until just recently - but _now_ I know - to be tied 
up, and helpless, and naked and shameless before 
everyone ... and ... and ... to be used and tormented 
endlessly for your pleasure, and for mine too, of 
course ... these days I think about nothing else. 
Whips ... cocks entering me ... and ropes and corsets 
binding me so tight ... I dream of them all the time. 
And now, oh _now_, it's all going to start happening 
to me again - oh, it's so _wonderful_!" 

"Well, are you ready? My friends and I have some very 
special experiences prepared for you. I can promise 
you an exquisite evening." 

I just looked up at him, my eyes sparkling with tears 
of happiness, my heart too full and my body too 
excited even to say yes. 

He escorted me politely across the hallway and through 
the double-doors into the big living-room, letting me 
walk in front of him as I balanced carefully on my 
slender high-heels. The doors closed irrevocably 
behind me. I blushed a little at the attention I 
attracted, my glittering mini-dress sparkling in the 
lights and my thighs rustling slightly as they brushed 
against each other. There were about forty people in 
the room, most of them still dressed though some had 
already found partners. Several more of the pretty 
Asian housemaids were moving through the crowd serving 
drinks; they had shed their little g-strings now and 
were responding with happy smiles to the sexual 
attention their nudity attracted. Was it the rule of 
the house that required them to be fully naked inside 
this room, or had the guests enjoyed stripping them of 
their last little scraps of modesty while they 
pretended to protest? 

As my Master and I entered, those guests nearest the 
doors stopped talking and watched me. The others soon 
realised that the main event of the evening had 
arrived, and they too fell silent. But their smiles 
were welcoming; and I knew they were expecting me, and 
looking forward to what was about to happen just as 
much as I was. I could glimpse Shizue and Tomoko in 
the crowd, smiling encouragement at me. I relaxed and 
even took a little immodest pleasure in the excitement 
I was causing. 

"This is Kimiko, who is a candidate for our 
consideration tonight," said my Master as he passed me 
round the big room. 

My excitement was different from theirs, of course, 
since the other guests knew what was to happen while I 
could only guess at the wonderful experiences my 
Master and they had planned for me. When he had shown 
me off to everyone, my Master took me gently by the 
left elbow and stopped me as one of the nude 
housemaids smilingly brought forward a small table. 
The atmosphere had become so tensely focussed on me 
that no one even thought to take advantage of her 
nakedness. But I had no time to feel sorry for her 
disappointment: I looked down and could not repress a 
little gasp of excitement as I saw the coils of white 
rope waiting for me. I had been hoping so much that I 
would be permitted to spend at least part of the 
evening bound, and it seemed that my wish was to be 
granted at once! They were just the kind of ropes I 
most liked, too: soft and yet firm, made from natural 
fibres which are so much more flexible than plastic 
and would bite so deliciously into my firm, plump 
flesh. 

"Will you please undress for us, Kimiko?" asked my 
lover in a low voice. 

I sensed that this was the last occasion that evening 
when I would be allowed to decide anything for myself, 
so - even though I was desperate to do what he asked - 
I remained silent for a few moments, my eyes modestly 
lowered. Then I raised my head slowly, and looked at 
him, and then at some of the other guests standing 
nearest to me, my lips slightly parted with 
excitement, the modest blush returning to my cheeks. 

Still saying nothing, I lifted my arms in their long, 
gleaming gloves above my head and slowly untied the 
halter of my glittering dress. There was a little gasp 
as the front of my dress fell forwards and freed my 
naked breasts. Then I reached behind my back and 
gradually - oh, so gradually! - slid the zip fastener 
downwards. I could sense the tension as I slowly eased 
the tight cloth over my hips: they were all longing to 
find out if I was wearing panties or had been fully 
naked under my dress from the moment of setting out 
with my Master on this Test of my new-found sexuality. 
There was a sigh of satisfaction from my audience as 
the shining sheath fell to the floor at last and I 
stepped out of it, leaving it to one side. Before it 
could be damaged it was taken away for safety by one 
of the pretty maids, and I turned slowly to display my 
near-nudity. 

"How beautiful her breasts are!" I heard one of the 
women in the audience say. "And how lovely she looks 
in just that pretty little g-string! It's almost a 
shame she'll have to take it off." 

"Almost," said her companion. "_I_ want to see her 
nude." 

"How obvious you men are!" 

"All right. But complete nudity and total submission 
are what we come here to enjoy. And her Master will 
let her keep her gloves and shoes on, I'm sure. That's 
always a pretty effect." 

I let my gloved hands slide languidly over my breasts 
and down my stomach, then played with the little bows 
on my hips. 

"May I?" I begged my Master softly. "May I? I want 
_so_ much to be nude ... for you, for me, for everyone 
..." 

"You enjoy being nude? For everyone to see?" asked my 
Master. 

"Oh, _yes_!" 

"Then you may." 

Slowly, teasing myself, I pulled the bows of the 
g-string apart. With one silver hand I coyly handed 
the little scrap of cloth to my Master, while with the 
other I fluffed up the crisp curls of the neatly 
trimmed patch between my already damp thighs. I risked 
a coy glance towards the man who had wanted to see me 
nude; then turned again under the lights, happily - oh 
_so_ happily! - showing off my perfect nakedness for 
the enjoyment of my new friends. 

My Master took me by one silver elbow again and walked 
me slowly through the appreciative crowd. I stepped 
carefully in my new shoes, shyly aware of how 
beautifully the long, slender heels stretched my legs 
and made my bottom wiggle sexily. I looked down with a 
modest blush as hands reached out to stroke my arse 
and thighs, and fingers tweaked my already hard 
nipples. I could see that with his spare hand my 
lover - my Master - had scooped up the waiting coils 
of rope, and my skin began to shiver with excitement, 
longing for their kiss. 

In the middle of the room he begged the crowd, now 
themselves mostly undressed, to move back a little, 
then prepared to bind me. 

"Shall I take my gloves off, Master?" I asked 
submissively, trying to hide my eagerness to feel the 
intimacy of the tight ropes. 

"No, leave them on," he said shortly, his voice 
betraying his own sexual arousal. 

Without waiting for his instruction I put my hands 
behind me and turned my back to him so that he could 
begin the binding. He roped my wrists firmly together, 
then made me bend my elbows so that my hands were 
pinioned in the small of my back. With the rest of the 
coil he began the process I loved so much, looping the 
rope tightly round my chest just under my breasts, 
twisting each turn at my sides and taking it round 
each upper arm so that I was soon helpless. Then the 
second coil completed the pattern, binding me tightly 
above the breasts, the end of the rope neatly tucked 
into the lower one so that together they formed an 
open bra from which my breasts stood out firm and 
proud. 

He tied the end of a third rope to my wrists, then led 
me through the excited crowd who pressed forward, 
lovingly stroking and patting my helpless body. 

"Will you not bind my legs too, Master?" I asked as 
this second parade came to an end. 

"Would you like that?" he asked me gently. 

I was too experienced to fall into that trap. 

"My delight is whatever it pleases you to do to me, 
Master," I replied submissively. 

"That is a good answer, Slave. See how excited you 
have made some of our guests!" he said. "Your reward 
shall be to give them relief with your pretty mouth." 

I looked round the room and saw that nearly everyone 
was fully undressed now, many of the men - as my 
Master had said - splendidly erect. 

Now he took two more coils of the smooth, firm rope 
and bound my legs, just below my arse and just above 
my knees, twisting each turn into a figure-of-eight 
pattern so that it bit firmly into the delicate flesh 
of my inner thighs. I could stand only with his help, 
teetering unsteadily on my slender high-heels. He and 
others helped me to kneel upright on the soft carpet. 
With my face now at a lower level I felt as if I was 
surrounded by an honour-guard of beautifully erect 
cocks. 

That was the last thing I saw before my Master again 
pulled the blindfold out of his pocket and tied it 
firmly round my head. So this evening was to begin as 
that first, wonderful evening had done, when I had 
learnt so suddenly how to abandon shame and explore my 
sexuality, bound and sightless, forced - oh, so 
willingly! - to suck cock after cock, and my life had 
changed for ever. As the first anonymous erection 
bobbed against my lips and I opened them to draw the 
beautiful thing as deeply into me as I could, I 
remembered David and all he had taught me. How 
astonishing it had been when he first pissed over my 
face, and I had found, once again, that something I 
had imagined to be distasteful was in fact the source 
of intense pleasure! Hopefully I wondered if any of 
these men would fancy pissing into my mouth later on - 
well, obviously they were in no state to do it just 
now! The thought made me giggle, and the unexpected 
vibration in my throat and lips made my first lover of 
the evening spurt copiously into me, earlier perhaps 
than he expected. I tried to make it up to him by 
continuing to lick the sensitive underside of his 
cock, and by sucking the last drops of sperm from him, 
but he was soon pushed out of the way by the next in 
line. 

I took cock after cock into my mouth, trying to repay 
the pleasure they gave me by drawing them slowly and 
luxuriously into my throat, licking and sucking in the 
way I knew men liked best. Mostly they came inside me, 
but a few preferred to withdraw at the last moment and 
spray my face with their cum, the thick loops of sperm 
dripping off my cheeks and chin to spatter my breasts 
and the ropes which held them. 

At last there was a pause. Very daring, and not 
knowing which way to direct my question, I spoke to 
the crowd I sensed in front of me. 

"Oh, Master, has my mouth tasted your cock too?" I 
asked. 

"No, Slave," I heard his deep voice reply from 
somewhere behind me. "I have another use for your 
mouth first." His voice changed direction. "Help me 
arrange her on her back," he said to some of the other 
guests. 

Gentle hands first tilted me forwards and held me so 
that I could lie at full length without hurting 
myself, then turned me onto my back, placing a pillow 
beneath my head. I could feel that I was lying on a 
plastic sheet which had been spread over the soft 
carpet. That told me what was coming, and I was glad 
that I had taken the trouble to practice the evening 
before. I heard my Master's voice from somewhere just 
above me. 

"Open your mouth wide," he commanded me. 

I had no sooner done so than I felt it fill with a 
deliciously warm, salty flow. Oh, how wonderful this 
party was! It seemed I had only to imagine something I 
wanted done to me, and it happened! But this was no 
time for philosophy: I had to move fast. Before my 
mouth could overflow I began to gulp the liquid down. 
How I blessed David and his advice on training myself 
to do that! Somewhere in my mind I had a vision of the 
little teapot standing innocently in the corner of the 
bathroom at home. At last the flow turned to a 
trickle, wavered a little and splashed the last drops 
over my chin and breasts. Bound as I was I could do 
nothing to save them from running onto the plastic and 
then perhaps staining the carpet, but a gentle hand at 
once wiped me clean. There was applause from my 
audience.

"Well done, Slave!" said my Master's voice. 

"Oh, Master, you are so good to me ..." I replied. 

The lengthy session of oral sex had tired me, and my 
jaw ached a little. They let me rest for a few 
minutes. I could hear more drinks being passed round; 
there were giggles and little screams - it sounded as 
if some of the female guests, and even the 
delightfully naked housemaids, were getting the 
benefit of the heightened sexual atmosphere in the 
room. At last my blindfold was unexpectedly removed, 
and I looked up, blinking in the sudden light. 

My Master stood over me, but he said nothing and I 
knew better than to ask questions. To my surprise he 
began to untie the ropes binding my legs. 

"Why are you unbinding me, Master?" I asked anxiously. 
"I love it so like that." 

"And we love looking at you like that, too," he said. 
"But now we are going to do something special to you, 
and we want to enjoy watching you wriggle." 

"Will I enjoy it too, this special thing?" 

"Oh, I think so. Oh yes, I am pretty sure you will 
enjoy this." 

"Master," I said anxiously, after a pause during which 
he continued to loosen the ropes round my thighs, "you 
won't do anything ... er ... _permanent_ to me, will 
you? I mean, anything that would leave a mark 
afterwards?" 

"Ha!" he said. "There's not much you can do now to 
stop us, is there?" 

Well, there wasn't, of course. What worried me was not 
so much the idea of being forced to have my nipples 
pierced or something like that - it was rather an 
exciting thought in fact - as the problem of hiding it 
from my parents. He seemed to read my mind: perhaps 
Tomoko and Shizue had told him about my family 
background. 

"Don't worry," he grunted, "when you go home to your 
mother there'll be nothing on you which she could 
notice in the bath." 

He had now finished with the ropes and spread my legs. 
My upper thighs felt cool where the air could at last 
dry the slick of cunt-juice which the sexual 
excitement of the last half-hour had caused to drip 
from my pussy. Some of the gobbets of cum decorating 
my face were partly dry and began to peel off, 
loosened by my movements as I spoke. 

"But how about _that_, then?" I heard him say. 

Other guests knelt on the carpet beside him and I felt 
his fingers delicately caress the valley between my 
legs, pointing out the little tattoos which David had 
had embroidered in the smooth dip above the big 
tendons of my thighs. There were murmurs of pleasure 
and surprise. 

"Oh, how _pretty_!" I heard a girl say. "I _must_ have 
something like that done!" 

"Yes," an older woman replied, "it's such a bore 
always having to _tell_ some stupid man what you want 
him to do." 

"Right - come on girls!" I heard a man's voice say 
with authority. 

Was he perhaps the owner of this house and therefore 
my host? I had been too busy to ask. I lifted my head 
a little from the cushion and looked from side to 
side. The pretty naked servants were handing out long 
candles of red wax, already lighted. 

I suddenly realised what they were planning to do, and 
my skin quivered in delighted expectation. Of course I 
had read about the candle-wax torture: it is sometimes 
mentioned in shocked tones in women's magazines, and 
has been described, very artistically, in novels by 
Japanese Nobel Prize winners. I knew that depraved old 
men liked to hire prostitutes or night-club hostesses 
to strip naked and let them dribble the molten wax 
from lighted candles onto their unprotected skin. 
Those who wrote in magazines about this perverted 
activity did so in terms of sympathy for the women, 
forced to endure such pain in return for payment. But 
of course the pain was the whole point, and they had 
missed it. I could see at once, without having to be 
told, that any girl of normal healthy sexuality - like 
me, _now_ - would adore having something so exciting 
done to her and that the "victim" was an eager 
volunteer. No doubt it made it more exciting for the 
men if she first pretended to resist, then begged for 
more of the exquisite sensation. 

They turned me onto my front, in the centre of the 
plastic sheet, and placed a sort of low stool under my 
shoulders to support me. My Master pulled firmly on 
the rope attached to my wrists, making me arch my back 
and hold my head up, so that those squatting near me 
could watch my face as the torture progressed. Many of 
the other guests were now gathered with their candles 
round my plump, inviting arse; others held cameras 
with which to record its progressive decoration with 
round splashes of hot wax. 

"Ready?" said an insinuating voice in my ear. 

"Oh, don't hurt me - _please_ don't!" I begged 
insincerely; then "Ohh!" as the first hot drips kissed 
my skin like burning feathers. 

My thighs and legs squirmed under the rain of wax, 
trying to give the impression of seeking escape but in 
fact eager for more of the lovely, random prickles of 
pain. I flung my legs apart so that my cunt and anus 
could get their share, and my tormentors, seeing what 
I wanted, competed to aim their candles accurately. An 
occasional lucky hit sizzled as it was doused in the 
love-juice now flowing unrestrainedly from my pussy. I 
could not keep up the pretence of resistance any 
longer. Tears of joy ran down my face as I gabbled and 
gasped my thanks, begging my tormentors to increase 
the speed of the burning rain. 

The insinuating voice spoke again. A woman's short 
fair hair brushed my cheek. 

"Are you enjoying it?" she drawled in my ear. 

"Oh, _yes_!" I gasped, "it's marvellous! Please don't 
let it stop!" 

"So far it's only been 'soft'. Are you ready for 
'hard'?" she enquired, pronouncing the words 
Japanese-style as _sofuto_ and _hado_. 

"What is that? Will it hurt even more?" 

"Oh, yes - a _lot_ more!" 

"Then _please_!" I begged. 

She looked up and gave a signal. Much of what was 
going on around me I learnt only later from the photos 
and videos which were being taken. The stimulation of 
torturing me was too much for several couples, who had 
abandoned the show I was involuntarily giving them to 
entertain each other. One man was on his back groaning 
with pleasure as girls delightedly poured the burning 
wax onto his belly and cock. Maids were running up 
with fresh candles: one man, unable to get close 
enough to me, had taken one of the pretty, slender 
Filipinas by the waist and was dribbling his candle 
over her naked breasts and stomach while she giggled 
and pretended to object. Meanwhile I was finding out 
what my new friend had meant by _hado_: my tormentors 
were now holding what was left of their candles fully 
upside-down, so that the rain of hot drips turned into 
a torrent of liquid flaming wax over my frantically 
wriggling arse and thighs. A tidal wave of orgasm 
overwhelmed me and I came joyously and without 
restraint, squirming in helpless pleasure as the 
others watched and cheered. 

At last it was over. 

"Did you enjoy that?" asked my new friend. 

It was several minutes before my breathing returned to 
something like normal. 

"Oh, why did you stop?" I asked by way of reply. 
"Surely you have more candles!" 

She laughed. 

"Well, sorry, but you've used them all. I'm Suzy, by 
the way." 

"I was hoping," I said, still struggling for breath, 
"that you'd turn me over ... and do it to my breasts 
... and my pussy ... my stomach ..." 

"Are your breasts very sensitive?" asked Suzy. 

"Yes, very," I replied, and then, impelled somehow to 
reveal a secret I had told no one before, "I can come 
just by stroking them." 

"Good, because we are reserving your breasts for 
something _very_ special later on. Now you must rest a 
little. You will need to be strong to bear the ... er 
... thing we shall do to you next." 

Obviously I was not to be allowed to know in advance 
what the next experience was to be - only that it 
would be difficult to bear. 

"Oh, Suzy, this is so wonderful. Have you ever had the 
candle-wax torture?" 

"Yes, a few times. It's good," she said briskly. "But 
I prefer doing things to having them done to me. Now 
rest." 

I squinted back at my arse as best I could, admiring 
the random mass of coin-shaped drops and curving lines 
of red wax, already beginning to peel from my skin as 
they dried. Then I let my head sink onto the stool and 
waited while my beating heart slowed and the vestiges 
of my orgasm gradually left me. 


[Next in Part 16: Chapter XVI: Between Heaven and 
Earth] 

For complete series so far see 
http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/Bob_Williams

