UNFINISHED AFFAIRS 14

THE MEGUMI STORIES
BY MEGUMI KATO AND FRIENDS

VOLUME 04: UNFINISHED AFFAIRS
BY BOB WILLIAMS
ASSISTED BY MEGUMI, CHIYOKO, HANAKO, SAMMY, HIROKO, 
NATSUKO, SACHI, MAKI, YUKI AND AYAKO

PART 14

CHAPTER XIV

The Holiday

     When I met Ayako - she was at the same school as 
     Natsuko, but all this happened several years later 
     and they didn't know each other - I had just had a 
     stroke of luck with my writing. So I decided to 
     give her a real treat and invited her, for our 
     first proper date, to spend a weekend with me at a 
     rather special resort I had just learned about. 
     When she heard I planned to write about our 
     activities there, she said she'd like to do that 
     herself. So here is an extended piece from the 
     girl's point of view. I helped her, of course, but 
     it is very much her own work. 

I stood naked in front of the big mirror fixed to the 
wall of the dressing-room. I was holding the little 
folded card which had been discreetly placed on the 
dressing-table, and was reading, once again, the words 
printed on it:

Guests are respectfully reminded 
that clothing is optional 
in all areas of the resort 

I had read it several times already since Bob and I had 
checked into our suite that afternoon - in fact I knew 
it by heart - but I enjoyed reading it again. It felt 
good. 

I looked at myself in the mirror. I was quite pleased 
with what I saw, and hoped Bob would like it too. I 
wasn't often able to examine myself full-length and 
fully nude. I had quite a nice figure, I thought, with 
a slim waist emphasising the swell of my breasts and 
arse. To be honest, they needed emphasising. My breasts 
were firm but still quite small - at sixteen I supposed 
that was only natural. At least the nipples were 
rock-hard and wonderfully sensitive. They hadn't always 
been - that is to say, they were hard and felt good 
whenever I was masturbating or being pleasured by 
someone, but not otherwise. Then a few months ago I had 
persuaded a lover - a foreigner with whom I had special 
English classes - to pay for me to have them pierced. 
Now they were decorated with the prettiest silver 
rings! 

I had read about nipple-piercing in girls' magazines 
and had been dreaming about it for ages. The people in 
the magazines said it was very important to have the 
rings set as far back in the nipples as possible: that 
would keep them permanently hard and erect, and leave 
the front of the nipples available for "other 
attachments". I wasn't quite sure what that meant, but 
of course I had taken the experts' advice. The piercer 
had recommended a pair of rings with discreetly 
serrated edges which tickled delightfully as I twisted 
them round and round in their little holes. 

I read the notice again. It still gave me a lovely 
shivery feeling to know I was permitted to be as nude 
as I liked, but it didn't help me decide what to wear 
for our first dinner at the resort. Of course the 
simple answer would be to wear nothing, as recommended. 
In the mirror I took my eyes off my pierced breasts and 
critically examined my pussy. I picked up the 
nail-scissors and tweezers and carefully removed a few 
stray hairs; then slightly trimmed the springy curls 
which I had trained into a pretty vee, an arrow 
pointing downwards to where I most wanted to be petted 
and pleasured. I liked to keep my cunt completely 
shaven - my lovers said they enjoyed the way it made me 
look and feel even younger than I actually was - but I 
don't like the growing fashion for shaving or waxing 
all a girl's pussy hair. I think it makes the skin raw 
and red just where she most wants it to be soft and 
delicate. 

Yes, Bob would be pleased if I decided to wear nothing, 
I thought. He would enjoy entering the public rooms of 
the resort with an excited nude girl on his arm, 
showing her off to the other guests. And how _I_ would 
enjoy showing myself off, too! But this was the first 
evening of our holiday and it would be nice for both of 
us to build up our desire just a little longer. Later, 
after dinner, we would make love properly for the first 
time. So far we had been on just one date: I had let 
him play with my bare breasts, of course (he had 
_loved_ my rings!) and I had stroked his cock through 
his trousers, but nothing more. We both knew what this 
holiday was for: sex, sex and more sex, in private and 
in public. _Especially_ in public - the nicest kind of 
sex there is. 

I opened the closets which I had filled with my things 
only an hour before. I had brought a big selection of 
outfits and equipment which my other lovers had 
enjoyed. Mostly they had bought them for me so they 
could dress me up the way they liked to see me. That 
way I could be sure I looked good in them. One drawer 
held ropes of different types and thicknesses. I was 
looking forward to showing them to Bob and inviting him 
to use them on me. Would _he_ enjoy being tied up too, 
and letting me tease him beyond endurance? That would 
be fun! I already knew what I most liked my lovers to 
do to me - but I still had so much to learn about the 
strange things men liked to have girls do to them. 

Time was getting on. If I was to wear anything, I had 
better decide quickly. Nothing on top, of course: I 
was so proud of my beautifully decorated breasts, and 
couldn't bear the thought of hiding them. I pulled a 
selection of bikini panties out of a drawer. One was 
in glistening white satin: yes, that would be nice. 
Many guests, I had read in the brochure, came to this 
resort on honeymoon. Of course we weren't married - 
even if I were old enough, why would I want to be when 
the world was full of men I hadn't tried out yet? - 
but it would be fun to pretend. I fitted the little 
triangle over my pubic hair, ran the narrow band 
tightly up the crack in my arse so that it could 
hardly be seen, and tied the little bows neatly on 
each hip. The ends were long and each had a little 
silver weight at the tip, making them dangle 
temptingly down my thighs. I flirted with myself in 
the mirror. Yes, he would like that, and so would I. I 
hunted through the drawer with the ropes, and found a 
broad collar of soft white leather. I fitted it snugly 
round my neck, and closed it with a steel padlock. I 
left the key in the drawer. 

Finally, shoes. One of the first things I learnt about 
sex with _gaijin_ or western men is that they are 
crazy about high-heeled shoes. Because in Japan we are 
accustomed to taking our shoes off indoors, we don't 
associate sex with shoes the way westerners seem to 
do. But one of my foreign lovers used to say there was 
nothing, absolutely nothing in the world, so beautiful 
as a young naked Japanese girl teetering shyly on 
tall, narrow heels. So I always wear them for my 
lovers, especially when I'm nude. Or nearly nude, as I 
was now - for the moment at least. I had exactly the 
right pair to please Bob: white strappy shoes with 
thongs to tie round my ankles and slender spike heels 
fully thirteen centimetres high. They were a little 
too small for me, which gave me an exciting feeling of 
slight constriction, and the height made them 
difficult to walk in - but I thought Bob would be glad 
to support me.[23] 

Should I clip a dog-lead into the ring in my collar? 
Or even give Bob a whip to carry? Better not. I didn't 
yet know whether he had a taste for sadism. Of course 
I _hoped_ he had already discovered how Japanese girls 
adore being whipped, but he might still need careful 
persuasion. 

I brushed my hair, scented my breasts and pussy 
discreetly, gave my nipples an extra tweak to make 
them stand up as erect as they could, and entered the 
bedroom. 

"You _do_ look beautiful!" said Bob. He was waiting 
for me bare-chested, wearing just a pair of jeans and 
slip-on shoes. 

"D'you think so?" I asked, twirling round in front of 
him as well as I could in my treacherous heels. Facing 
him again, I reached a hand behind me and ran the tips 
of my fingers down my arse, hiding the string of the 
panties even more deeply. It's nice to look nude when 
seen from the back. 

"Shall we go, then?" 

"I'm ready!" I said gaily. 

It was still quite light and the air was warm, with 
just occasional little breezes kissing my nakedness in 
unpredictable ways and making me tremble with 
pleasure. The stone paths leading to the resort 
restaurant were uneven and difficult for me to 
negotiate in my heels. I squealed and hung on to Bob, 
who took me by the waist. After a while I stopped and 
turned towards him. 

"Oh, it's so lovely here!" I said. 

He held me with one arm while his other hand played 
with my breasts, then moved downwards and stroked my 
naked bottom. I stood on tiptoes, put my arms round 
his neck and kissed him. 

"Thank you so much for bringing me here," I said as 
our mouths parted again. 

A western couple also heading for the restaurant 
passed us, smiling at our happiness. I looked after 
them: the girl was tall, long-legged, elegant, long 
hair hanging down her back and - apart from her heels 
- completely naked. Bob too was enjoying the lovely 
sight she presented. I brought his attention back to 
me, wriggling my breasts and pussy against him. 

"Wouldn't _you_ like to be like that?" he asked me. 

"Er, nude, you mean? Completely nude?" 

"Yes, completely nude. It's allowed here, you know." 

"Well, yes - I mean no - yes, of course, but - maybe 
later." I pulled myself together and stopped 
stammering. "After dinner. Perhaps. When we've had 
something to eat." 

His hands were still holding me, fondling me. I turned 
round in his arms so they could play with my breasts 
and stroke my pussy through the scrap of satin which 
just covered it. 

"I know what _I_ want to eat," he said. "Your pretty 
pussy." 

"You mean ..." 

"Haven't you ever had your pussy licked and sucked ... 
eaten?" 

I turned round again to face him, and looked up at him 
wide-eyed and serious. 

"Would you enjoy doing that?" 

Of course he would enjoy doing that. Every man does, 
and every girl loves having it done to her, dripping 
her thick juices into his mouth. 

"Surely you've had that done to you often enough?" 

"Well, yes, actually," I said, lowering my eyes and 
blushing. 

"And you've thanked the man by doing to same to him in 
return?" 

I looked up at him beseechingly, then looked away 
again. The problem was I hadn't yet decided how to 
present myself to Bob - how he wanted to see me. Of 
course this resort was devoted to sexual pleasure and 
in accepting his invitation I was telling him I was 
ready for a weekend of non-stop fucking and nudity. 
But was I an experienced young slut teasing her latest 
man, or an innocent schoolgirl trembling on the verge 
of sexuality and ready to be taught what it meant? 
Which did he want me to be? 

"Don't you think it was rather naughty of you?" he was 
continuing. "Pretending like that. Being such a little 
tease." 

"Yes," I said shyly. "Yes - _sensei_," I added 
daringly. 

"Don't you deserve to be punished for it? Severely 
punished?" 

I could not speak. My heart suddenly began to pound 
and I was breathing fast: he must have felt it. At 
last I had the answer to the question I had asked 
myself in the dressing-room: yes, he _did_ like 
whipping girls! My bottom tingled, as if it was 
already feeling the loving kisses of the lash. All I 
had to do was let him know how much I wanted him to 
whip me, while letting him think he was teaching a 
little beginner how to enjoy it. 

He was waiting for my answer. I leant my head against 
his bare chest, swallowed a couple of times, and 
whispered, "Yes. Yes, please ..." 

I felt his fingernails scratch gently against the skin 
of my bottom, already trembling with excitement and 
longing. 

"Have you been punished before?" 

"Sometimes," I whispered, looking up at his face. "At 
school ..." 

It was true so far as it went. He bent his head and 
kissed me tenderly. 

"I'll teach you," he said softly. "You'll love it." 

"I'm sure I shall ... if _you_ do it to me. Er ... 
whatever it is," I added, looking up at him 
innocently. 

He kissed me once more, and we started walking again. 

"It's so lovely, being here with you," I continued. "I 
want so much to be yours. To do all the things you 
want me to do ... all the things I've never done." 
Well, that wasn't _quite_ saying I'd never been 
whipped, but perhaps he would think that was what I 
meant. "I have so much to learn," I added shyly. 

"Why don't you start by taking off your panties and 
being nude for me?" 

His fingers, as we walked, were already playing with 
the dangling ties. The little metal tips were clashing 
prettily together. 

"Not _just_ yet, darling," I said. 

"But you're _almost_ nude already." 

"Yes, but ... there's such a difference between being 
almost nude and - you know - fully ... for the first 
time." 

"But soon?" 

"Soon." 

"All right." 

"Please hold me close. These shoes are difficult to 
walk in." 

"They must be. Do they hurt?" 

"A bit. But I like to wear shoes that fit tightly. 
They feel exciting - and make my feet look small and 
nice, don't you think?" 

"I do," he said. "Later I'll kiss them and make them 
better." 

"Thank you. I'd enjoy that. I suppose the heels are a 
_bit_ high, but I like them like that." 

"So do I. I used to know a girl who always wore shoes 
with one heel just slightly higher than the other." 

"Oh yes?" 

"It makes a girl's bottom wiggle nicely when she 
walks." 

"What a lovely idea!" 

When we reached the outdoor restaurant we were quickly 
made welcome. Pretty miniskirted waitresses showed us 
to a table for two near the little dance area. I 
examined their costumes with interest: they were based 
on the traditional waitress uniform, black with white 
frilly edges and a short skirt held out wide by stiff 
petticoats; but the upper part was cut very low to 
expose their pretty breasts. I must get a uniform like 
that to wear at parties, I thought. A combo was 
playing softly. Beyond the dance-floor there seemed to 
be some large couches set out. At least, I hoped that 
was what they were; it was getting dark and they were 
outside the area covered by the lighting. We ordered 
our food: something light and a soft drink for me. We 
were sitting at right-angles to each other and I put 
my hand lightly on Bob's thigh. With the fingers of 
the other I absently fiddled with one of my rings, 
enjoying the tickling sensation as it twisted round in 
the little channel carved out of my nipple. 

"Tell me about yourself," said Bob. 

"What do you want to know?" 

"Everything. Everything about your sexual experiences, 
anyway." 

"It's so difficult to know where to start ..." 

"D'you remember," he said, "when I asked you for a 
date and you said you couldn't that night because you 
were working?" 

"Yes." 

"Was it true? Or did you just have a date with another 
man?" 

"Of _course_ it was true!" 

"So begin there. Where were you working?" 

"I was working ... working at a ... a strip-club." I 
looked up at him. I could feel the blush spreading 
from my face and neck all the way down my breasts. 
"You don't mind, do you?" I asked anxiously. 

"Mind? Of _course_ not! Why should I mind? I'm 
delighted!" 

"Well, some men ..." 

"I wish I could see you strip," he said softly, 
smiling gently at me. "I'm sure you do it beautifully 
... all the men must enjoy watching you!" 

"Well, I hope so. But the main thing is, _I_ enjoy it. 
I just _love_ doing it for them." 

"And how did you get the job?" 

"Well, it's a long story." 

"We've got plenty of time, I guess." 

I thought for a moment, deciding where to start. 

"I suppose it began early one evening in Shibuya. I 
was with a group of friends ... walking across the 
plaza outside the station. In our school uniforms. And 
a man approached me. Asked me very politely if I'd 
like to earn little pocket-money." 

"Aha!" said Bob. "I thought as much. And did you say 
yes?" 

"Some of my friends had told me that could happen. 
Probably would. They'd been approached already, you 
see. And they'd told me the sort of thing they were 
asked to do." 

"Posing nude? Sex videos? That sort of thing?" 

"Yes. It sounded fun - and an easy way of earning a 
little money. In fact I was feeling a little sad 
because my friends had been asked and no one had asked 
me yet. So I pretended to be surprised, and a bit coy, 
but I took his business card when he offered it me and 
agreed to visit his office the next day." 

"And in his office he photographed you - in your 
uniform, and then out of your uniform ..." 

"That's right!" I said excitedly, "first topless, then 
just in panties. And then he asked me - oh, so gently 
and politely - if I'd mind taking them off and being 
fully nude for the camera ..." 

"And you did?" 

"Well, I was a bit shocked at first. No, not shocked 
really, just shy. But he explained the pictures would 
be very artistic. And then I thought, well why not? So 
I did! Oh, it felt _so_ good!" 

"Then shots of making love?" 

"Yes! That was a bit later though ... such a kind 
gentle man helped me undress, and stroked and petted 
me ... of course I liked the money they gave me, but 
most of all I liked doing it. _Especially_ doing it 
for the camera. It gave me such a lovely feeling!" 

"And when did you start making videos?" 

"Quite soon. The people at the company asked how I 
felt about it. And I said I thought it would be nice. 
Of course I wasn't a virgin." 

"No?" 

"No. There had been sort of petting sessions in the 
school gym after classes: just girls at first, then 
some boys joined in ... to start with we just stroked 
their cocks, then we learned to kiss and suck them. 
Their cocks, I mean. And one day a boy entered me ... 
it felt strange at first, and not very nice, but 
thinking about it in bed afterwards ... oh, it was 
_so_ lovely! And then there was a teacher ..." 

"Lucky teacher!" said Bob. 

"Oh, I think I was the lucky one. He taught me _so_ 
much ..." 

"Did he beat you?" 

I felt myself blushing all over again. I looked up at 
his face. 

"Yes ... yes ... I told you he taught me a lot ..." 

"And you enjoyed it?" 

"Oh, I _did_! He was so gentle at first, and then 
showed me how it can take a girl to heaven and hold 
her there ..." 

There was a pause. I hoped Bob was dreaming of doing 
that to me. 

"Anyway," he said at last, "you made some sex 
videos." 

"Yes. I enjoyed that. And I was paid more than for the 
posing sessions." 

"So you should be. Videos of really young girls being 
fucked sell at high prices. And they're much better." 

"Better?" 

"Better than videos of busty eighteen- or 
twenty-year-old AV stars dressed up in school 
uniforms, I mean." 

I giggled. 

"Do they do that?" 

"Of course they do. But girls like you ... Anyway, how 
did you get from there to the strip-club?" 

"Well, one of the men who worked at the studio asked 
me if I'd ever stripped and been nude in public. And I 
said no I hadn't - only in front of the camera. But 
then - I couldn't stop myself saying it - I said it 
sounded wonderfully exciting and I'd love to try. So 
he said he'd help me and he arranged for me to dress 
up in sexy clothes from the studio's wardrobe and he 
and one of the older girls taught me how to undress 
the way men like to see a girl do it." 

"_I'd_ like to see you undress," said Bob. "Wouldn't 
you like to take those panties off for me?" 

I stroked his thigh under the table. 

"In a moment I will," I said. "I promise. But there's 
something I want to tell you about stripping. How it 
feels for a girl, I mean." 

"Yes?" 

"You see, they call it strip-tease, and the girl is 
supposed to tease the men by making them wait till 
they're allowed to see her nude. But you see, the one 
who is really being teased is the girl. Do you 
understand that?" 

"I think so ..." 

"When I'm up on the stage, with all those men wanting 
me and longing for me to be nude, it's _so_ exciting! 
And I desperately, _desperately_ want to be nude - oh, 
so much! And when at last I am, and I've taken off 
even my little panties, it's the greatest thrill! But 
you see, the real fun is the teasing. Not just teasing 
them, though I enjoy doing that, but teasing myself. 
Making myself wait for the thing I most want in all 
the world." 

"And that is?" 

"You know what it is!" 

"But I want to hear you tell me." 

"Being nude. In public. Being desired and beautiful 
and wanted. But above all being nude. To be nude in 
front of an audience is the loveliest thing a girl can 
experience. Well, one of the loveliest things ... And 
that's why I adore teasing myself, making myself wait 
for it. Like tonight." 

"And are you enjoying teasing me, too? Making me wait, 
I mean?" 

"Oh, yes!" I said, with a smile. 

He stood up, and held out both hands to me. 

"Let's dance," he said. 

I stood up too, and joined him. The people at the 
nearby tables looked at me appreciatively. 

"Wouldn't you like to be nude now? Strip for me, and 
dance nude for me?" 

"In a moment," I said shyly. 

He didn't argue. I think he knew I couldn't bear to 
wait much longer. 

The music being played was slow, and we were alone in 
the dancing area. We didn't really dance - just held 
each other close and swayed in time with the rhythm. 
After a few minutes I turned round in his arms and 
leant back against him, slowly rubbing my bottom 
against his erection while his hands stroked my naked 
breasts and stomach and tickled me between my thighs. 
It was time at last. 

"Let me dance alone," I whispered. 

I took the centre of the dance area, where the 
spotlights were concentrated. He moved to the side and 
watched me. _Everyone_ was watching me, I now 
realised. I danced for them, turning as I showed 
myself off from all sides, stroking myself as his 
hands had done. I thought of the lucky girl who was 
taking my place at the strip-club tonight. Perhaps she 
too was now wearing only her tiny panties, smiling 
demurely while her excited admirers shouted "Off! Off! 
Take it off!" and her own longing secretly whispered 
the same to her with even greater urgency. The 
audience here would not do that - they were too 
well-behaved - but the air was full of the same 
intoxicating aroma of lust which at my strip-club 
never failed to make me helpless with desire. I had 
first experienced it when boys joined us in our 
innocent petting sessions in the school gym, and had 
sought it everywhere ever since. 

My hands were playing with the side-ties of my 
panties. It felt just as it always did when I stripped 
at my club: as if my hands were moving of their own 
volition, and there was nothing I could do to stop 
them - not that I wanted to. Slowly, slowly I pulled 
the little bows apart as the audience watched 
spellbound. It is one of the loveliest moments when a 
girl is stripping: that tiny second just before she 
gives way to her own overwhelming desire to be 
completely naked before her audience. At last I felt 
the bows give way and the threads between the cheeks 
of my bottom tickle me as they slid downwards. I 
turned my back to the audience and let them enjoy the 
rear view of my perfect nudity. Then to face them 
again, my hands still holding the panties across my 
pussy. 

"Oh, yes - oh _yes_!" I said, in a voice only those 
near me could hear: "yes, I want to be nude for you - 
oh, _so_ much!" 

And for myself, and for myself! I added silently. I 
let go of the panties and let them dangle from the 
fingers of my right hand. In the strip-club I like to 
toss them into the audience with a happy smile, 
telling them I never want to wear them again. I 
decided instead to throw them to one side, towards 
where Bob was standing. I was fully nude at last! 
Offering myself to the lust of my adoring and adored 
audience! I was almost faint with happiness and 
desire. 

How I wished they could _all_ have me - the women too, 
if they liked - but tonight was to be my first time 
with Bob. I turned towards him, holding out my arms to 
him, and as he came towards me saw that he too was 
naked. He had discreetly removed his trousers while 
the audience were watching me strip, and now his 
glorious erection was standing up proudly. I had never 
seen it before: only stroked it through his clothes. 
For a moment we stood side-by-side, our arms round 
each other, while the audience applauded. But then my 
hands, again acting as if independent of my will, 
reached out for his cock and stroked it tenderly. I 
sank to my knees and began to kiss it: not so much 
wanting to suck and swallow it (that would come later) 
as to love and worship it. 

"Get them a bed!" called out a man in the audience. 
But a couple of waitresses were already wheeling a 
couch from the back of the dance area into the pool of 
light. Quickly we climbed onto it, and knelt facing 
each other. My hands were still stroking his beautiful 
cock. 

"Whatever else you do, darling," I said in a small 
voice, "promise to finish in my mouth." 

"You like that?" he said teasingly. 

"I _adore_ it!" I said firmly. "Promise?" 

"I promise." 

"But do all the other things to me first. All the 
things you've been wanting to do to me! How would you 
like to start?" 

At Bob's urgent request I began by sitting on his 
face, looking out over his head towards the audience 
as his clever tongue dug deep into my dripping pussy, 
left it to swirl deliciously round my clit, and 
returned to slurp up more of my juices. His hands were 
tight round my waist and mine were caressing my own 
breasts - squeezing them, lifting them to show them 
off to the people at the front tables, twisting my 
rings, pinching my nipples for added pleasure. Soon he 
would be doing that for me, I hoped. 

After a while he came up for air, lifting me off his 
face. I slithered quickly backwards, my wet pussy 
leaving a damp track along his chest. At first I just 
stroked the underside of his cock with my cunt, but 
then I could wait no longer and helped his enormous 
erection deep, deep into me, impaling myself on it. I 
like taking control of a man, or pretending to - 
though it's not something I normally have a chance to 
do when fucking on stage. The customers at the 
strip-club who join me on the cat-walk once I am fully 
nude are masterful and want to show they are in 
command. About twenty deep strokes later I fell 
forward onto his chest and began kissing and stroking 
his face. 

"Careful, darling," he whispered, "you'll make me come 
before I'm ready." 

"Remember your promise!" 

"Yes - but there are other things I want to do to you 
first!" 

Reluctantly I released his cock and moved slightly 
forward. His hands grabbed my breasts and squeezed 
them hard. 

"Oh, yes, hurt me - hurt me more!" I begged. 

He pinched my nipples cruelly, making me gasp with 
pleasure. Then I began to bury his face in my breasts, 
trying to smother him while he licked and bit them, 
his strong hands now seizing and digging into the firm 
flesh of my bottom. I lifted my chest a little and 
started whipping his face with my breasts while he 
tried to grab my erect nipples with his teeth. At last 
I felt myself lifted. 

"The audience can't see properly," he said. "Let's 
stand up a bit." 

We moved the bed up-stage a little, and I stood with 
my back to the audience, leaning forward onto the 
cushions, my legs firm and stretched by my high heels. 
Bob stood beside me, stroking my bottom, spanking it, 
slapping it, slipping his fingers into my cunt, 
playing with my little pink rosebud, while I whimpered 
and squealed with joy and begged for more. Then he 
turned me slightly to one side so as not to block the 
audience's view and prepared to enter my cunt from 
behind. My juices had hardly stopped flowing since the 
moment I had removed my panties and displayed my 
perfect nudity, emphasised by my high heels and 
collar, and he entered me in a single slow movement. 

For a while he was still, just the throbbing of his 
cock exciting me; then he began to slide in and out 
while I screamed and implored him not to stop. Even in 
my preoccupation with my pleasure I could tell that 
the audience was excited and pleased with my 
performance: one thing I had learned from the 
strip-club was the ability to watch myself on stage, 
so to speak, even in the midst of the most intense 
experience. What was he going to do next? He had said 
there were lots of things he wanted to do to me before 
finishing in my mouth ... a few minutes ago his finger 
had been tickling and probing my little rosebud. A 
wild hope entered my mind - would he? I had been 
arse-fucked only a few times, and never by anything as 
big as Bob's erect cock. It would hurt, but it would 
be wonderful ... especially with an enthusiastic and 
sophisticated audience to enjoy it with me. 

And he did! He slowly pulled out of my cunt, moved the 
tip of his cock carefully up my crack, and pulled my 
cheeks firmly apart with his strong hands. My rosebud 
fluttered and tickled, uncertain whether to open or 
close. "Open, you silly thing!" I silently told it. 
"Open and receive him! Then close - grip him as tight 
as you can. He will _love_ that, and so will you." 

At last I felt the tip of his cock pressing against 
me, pushing irresistibly into my narrow hole - oh, how 
wonderful it was! How I wanted to surrender myself to 
his loving lust, to be pierced by his cock for ever! I 
could hear myself screaming with desire for him, for 
it, for my master. I could tell that our audience were 
gathering closely round us, those furthest from the 
dance area having pressed forward to where they could 
watch my penetration. Slowly, slowly the flaming 
sword, lubricated with my own cunt-juice, passed 
through the muscular ring of my little anus and 
swelled gloriously into the tube of flesh beyond. Even 
in my masturbation fantasies I had never dreamed of 
such a heavenly blending of pain and delight. 

He was in all the way now. I could feel his heart 
beating against my back as he held me, and his panting 
breath against my neck. He was rocking slowly to and 
fro, pulling a little way out then pressing firmly in 
again. 

"Hold me, darling - hold me tight!" I heard him say. 

"Oh, yes, _yes_!" 

I forced my anal muscles to grip the invading erection 
with all their strength. How wonderful - how even more 
wonderful - the friction of his movement felt as he 
withdrew and entered, withdrew and entered against the 
resistance of my tight sheath. 

At last I felt him withdraw completely. 

"Oh, no!" I begged. "Don't leave me!" 

"I shall come, darling - I shall come." 

Suddenly I remembered his promise, the consummation of 
our love which I had asked for all those ages of 
pleasure ago. Quickly I twisted round and knelt at his 
feet as he towered above me. His erection was still 
huge and firm: I took it longingly in my hands and 
teased the tip with my tongue, drawing it then into my 
mouth as slowly and lovingly as it had entered my 
arse. I could taste my own juices: it seemed strange 
to be licking them and sucking them down greedily. I 
could feel his cock throbbing as my tongue caressed 
the sensitive underside; then I pulled my tongue back, 
stroked the thick shaft with my fingers, and tasted 
the tip again. Yes, already there were delicious drops 
of pre-cum to enjoy. There was no point in spinning 
things out further: his control was on the point of 
collapse. My lips and tongue sucked him eagerly, 
caressing the swelling tube as the flood of cum began 
to force its way up from his balls. Oh, so full - oh, 
so creamy and delicious! Every man tastes different: I 
had already discovered that in my brief sexual career. 
Bob's cum was the best I had tasted. Greedily I sucked 
and licked till there wasn't another drop to be had 
and his cock at last began to slacken and shrink. I 
sat back on my heels while he supported himself with 
his hands on the bed, groaning with weakness and 
pleasure. 

I turned a little towards the audience, letting them 
see me swirl the harvested cum around my mouth, then 
opening my lips a little so some of the creamy froth 
could drip lasciviously down my chin and land on my 
breasts. It felt warm and loving. I put up a hand and 
let more of the cum dribble into my palm: I held it up 
under the lights, watching it slither heavily over my 
fingers, then licked the precious stuff up again to 
join the part that was still in my mouth. With one 
finger I scooped the drops off my chin and added them 
to my mouthful. I left the drops which had spattered 
onto my breasts: I could see that they were glistening 
in the light and I liked the way they looked. Slowly, 
slowly I let the rich cum, the evidence of Bob's love 
for me, trickle deliciously down my throat. 

"Oh, I could live on this!" I said. 

Without realising it, I said it aloud. There was 
sympathetic laughter from the audience. 

"Would you like some of mine?" said a man. 

I looked up at him gratefully. I was so glad he had 
enjoyed watching me and wanted me. How I love it when 
men desire me, and want to give me their lust and 
their cum! He was holding his erect cock in his hand 
and pointing it at me. _Mine_! I thought proudly. He 
had seen me nude, he had watched me fucking: _my_ 
nakedness and _my_ sexuality had created that 
erection. By rights it was mine to do anything I liked 
with. But not quite yet. 

"Later," I said, my lips still sticky. "I'd love that. 
You owe me a lovely mouthful of cum. Don't forget. But 
later." 

I walked carefully away from the dance area and 
through my admiring audience. Before anything else I 
had to clean myself up. I was of course still 
balancing precariously on the slender heels of my 
pretty little shoes, and I was clenching the muscles 
of my arse tightly as I walked. I could tell that my 
stance, forced by the tight, high shoes onto the tips 
of my toes, was adding to the wave of desire I could 
feel enveloping me. It always did! 

As I made my way cautiously towards the wash-room, two 
of the pretty waitresses in their miniskirted and 
topless maid uniforms came with me in case I needed 
help. 

"Ooh, that was beautiful!" said one when we were alone 
at last. 

"Ooh, you are so lucky!" chimed in the other. 

I smiled at them gratefully and disappeared into one 
of the stalls. It was equipped in the most modern 
style, with hot and cold sprays under the seat to 
tickle you delightfully and warm air blowers to dry 
you. I spent a long time playing with the buttons on 
the control panel. But the two waitresses were still 
waiting for me when I emerged, refreshed and ready for 
more pleasure. They were holding bottles of lotion and 
began to use it on me, their clever fingers petting 
and pleasuring me as they smoothed the expensive cream 
into my skin. One was soon kneeling and gently 
massaging my bottom. As her fingers delicately 
approached my arsehole she looked up anxiously, 
wondering if she was hurting me. I smiled down at her 
and nodded. To my surprise Bob's penetration had left 
no pain, rather a lovely sensation of warmth which was 
slowly spreading upwards. There was a tickling 
sensation, too: not unpleasant, just a reminder that I 
had a permanent itch deep inside my bottom which could 
be relieved in only one way. Oh, how lucky we girls 
are to have _three_ holes always ready to be entered 
by our lovers! 

"Wouldn't you like to take your collar off?" asked the 
standing girl, "just for a moment? So I can massage 
your neck?" 

"I can't," I said. "My Master has the key." 

It wasn't quite true, of course: I had left the key in 
the dressing-room of our suite. But it would certainly 
be for him to free me from it, or not, as he pleased. 

"You are _so_ lucky to have such a wonderful Master," 
she said. 

"Does he tie you up, and whip you, and - and do lovely 
things to you?" asked the other with a shy giggle. 

I didn't want to admit that Bob had not yet whipped 
me, and that I was still longing for the moment when I 
could shyly beg him to grant me that supreme pleasure. 

"What pretty uniforms you wear," I said, changing the 
subject. 

"Oh, yes!" they both said, eagerly interrupting each 
other. "We have different ones for each day of the 
week. One day it's a sort of jungle outfit with a 
ragged leather skirt and one bare breast. Then we have 
bunny costumes, and skin-tight microdresses, and so 
on. Today is the French maid day." 

"Your breasts look _so_ nice naked," I said 
admiringly. 

"The wide skirt is nice too," said one; "the stiff 
petticoats swish so nicely round my bottom ..." 

"And of course the guests can reach up and stroke 
me," said the other with a pretty blush. 

"Nothing underneath?" I said teasingly. 

"Only this," they replied. "Look!" 

They leant forward in unison, lifting their wide 
miniskirts. I gasped with amazement - and envy. Each 
girl had a broad strap of polished leather round her 
waist, from which narrower straps descended and passed 
tightly between her legs. Fixed to the straps were 
dildos deeply inserted into arse and cunt. As I looked 
more closely and ran my fingers lightly over the 
stiff, shiny leather I could detect a faint humming. 

"They are vibrators?" I asked. 

"Oh yes!" said one. "We always wear them with this 
costume! Then we can never stop thinking about sex 
..." 

"But the best evenings are when we have a dungeon 
theme," said the other eagerly. "The stage is set up 
as a prison and girls who have been naughty are 
brought on and punished." 

"How are you punished?" I asked. 

"We're tied up naked to the bars of the prison cells, 
and whipped. The male staff whip us - really, really 
hard - and the guests watch, and join in if they 
like." 

"That's not a _punishment_!" I exclaimed. 

"No," she said with a charming giggle, "but of course 
you have to pretend to be in pain - the men enjoy that 
and it makes them want to whip you even harder." 

"Mm'mm, lovely," I said: then added, "But if you wear 
these belts all evening, especially when you are 
looking so pretty in your maid costumes, it must be a 
bit frustrating being made to think about sex non-stop 
but not being able to have it with anyone, isn't it?" 

The two pretty girls looked at each other and giggled 
again. 

"Well, we have our _mouths_," said one. 

"In some ways that's the best," said the other. 
"Kneeling in front of a guest and slowly drinking his 
cum." 

"While the vibrators are driving us mad with desire." 

"Keeping us always on the edge of orgasm." 

I suddenly remembered that Bob was waiting for me, and 
that there were other men too who wanted me. We had a 
few moments' fun tweaking each others' nipples to make 
them stand up hard and erect, then the two girls 
fluffed up their pretty miniskirts, spread wide by the 
stiff petticoats, and took me back to our table. I sat 
down cautiously on the padded seat. The lovely warm, 
tickling feeling in my arse was as strong as ever. I 
hoped it would never leave me - that the more the itch 
was scratched, the stronger it would become. Bob 
smiled at me. 

"I'm sorry I was away so long," I said submissively. 

"Don't worry. I've been well entertained." He looked 
towards the dance area, where several naked couples 
were pleasuring each other. "How are you feeling?" 

"Wonderful," I said. "You were _so_ good to me ..." 

"No discomfort from, you know ...?" 

"Oh, _no_! That was the best of all," I said, 
wriggling luxuriously on my seat. "You _must_ do that 
to me again. Lots and lots." 

"I will. It was the best for me too. But not too 
often. I don't want to damage you. I want you to stay 
the way you are ... so wonderfully fresh and tight." 

"Am I? ... Is it?" 

"Yes. I was thinking, having your cock squeezed like 
that, must in a way be the sort of pleasure a girl 
gets from being tied into a really tight corset." 

I laughed. It seemed such an odd thing to say. And yet 
somehow I understood. A girl's body is sensitive, more 
or less, all over - while a man's sensitivity is 
concentrated in his cock and balls. So what a man 
feels when his cock is expertly fucked must be like 
what I feel everywhere. That's why a girl loves to be 
pleasured and constricted and - yes - whipped all over 
while a man usually doesn't. 

I suddenly realised someone was standing beside me. A 
tall man, with a huge erection which he was holding in 
one hand and pointing towards me on a level with my 
face. I looked up, and recognised the man who had 
spoken to me at the end of my fuck with Bob. I smiled. 

"You said you might like this later," he said. "It's 
been waiting for you." He turned to Bob. "I'm sorry, 
you'll think this very rude of me - but your little 
lady seemed to want more ..." 

"That's fine, you have her for a while if you fancy 
her," said Bob; then, to me: "Enjoy yourself! That's 
why we're here. I'll find something to do." He looked 
appreciatively at a nearby waitress, who smiled back 
demurely. 

My new friend put out his spare hand to me and helped 
me from my seat. 

"Thank you," I said. "I'd love to. Let's go and do it 
where people can watch. That's so much nicer, don't 
you think?" 

Soon I was on my knees on front of him; his big, 
beautiful cock was sliding into my willing mouth as I 
slowly - agonisingly slowly - sucked the creamy cum up 
from his heavy balls until it spurted along his shaft 
and anointed my tongue and throat. My waitress friends 
were right. It _is_ the best way - except for all the 
other ways! 

The pretty waitress was still working on Bob's cock 
when I returned to our table. I knelt beside her and 
put my arms round her tightly bound waist as she 
sucked him. When at last he had come, and she had 
drawn every last drop from him, I bent her backwards 
on her heels and kissed her passionately. My hair 
tumbled over her face and breasts. Our tongues coupled 
and we shared Bob's cum, mingled with the remnants of 
my lover's and the sweetness of our saliva. She let a 
little of her share dribble sexily onto her bare 
breasts, but I was too greedy to waste any of mine. I 
slid one hand up her skirt and felt again the firm 
leather of the straps holding her dildos tightly in 
place; she played with my breasts and twisted my 
nipple-rings gently through their holes. 

"How pretty they are!" she whispered, as we came apart 
at last. "I wish ..." 

"Why don't you?" I replied. "I'm going to have more 
fitted. In my navel ... in my pussy. Just as soon as 
I've left school ..." 

We kissed again. Her fingers were exploring my naked 
pussy, stroking my cunt-lips and making me wet with 
desire. 

"I want you," I said. 

I had never taken this initiative with another girl 
before - but I couldn't help myself. 

"Why not?" she said, blushing prettily. "That's what 
I'm here for. For whatever the guests want me to do - 
or want to do to me." 

"Are you happy here?" I asked. 

"Oh, _yes_!" she said, her ecstatic face telling me it 
was true. "It's lovely. And I can never have enough 
sex. Er ... can you?" 

"No," I said. "No. Never!" 

Bob had stood up. Smiling, he reached down and helped 
me to my feet. 

"Shall we go back to our suite now?" 

Before I could reply, my new friend interrupted 
hastily. 

"Oh, but sir - excuse me, but ... I think the manager 
would like a word with you first!" 

She guided us up onto the stage and we stood there, 
Bob and I naked of course, the little waitress pretty 
in her delightful uniform. The manager appeared from 
the wings: we had met him briefly on arrival - a 
handsome _gaijin_ in his forties, dressed in slacks 
and a shirt open to the waist. The band played "pay 
attention" music and the audience stopped talking. 

"Good evening!" he said. "I won't interrupt your 
evening for more than a moment. But before our friends 
here go to their suite to be alone together ..." there 
was a sympathetic murmur from the audience "... I have 
a present for them." 

The little waitress, who had gone off-stage while he 
was talking, returned with a package neatly wrapped in 
shiny white. 

"This is something we give to all our young couples. 
It's a sort of honeymoon present. We hope it will make 
your stay with us even more enjoyable. Please open 
it." 

He handed me the parcel. Of course one doesn't usually 
open a present in front of the giver - that is bad 
manners - but as he insisted I began to undo the 
wrappings. Inside was a box containing the most 
beautiful whip I had ever seen: a ridged handle 
designed to be held firmly and nine long, slender 
leather lashes: all in pure white. 

"Oh!" I said, hardly able to speak for excitement, 
"it's _beautiful_! Oh, thank you, thank you!" 

The audience applauded as I ran the pretty lashes 
through my fingers; and then, with both hands and a 
deep formal bow, gave the lovely instrument to Bob. He 
lifted it high and shook out the lashes, swishing them 
lightly as he smiled at me. They must have been all of 
two metres long. I was trembling with desire as I 
imagined how their loving embrace would feel. 

"Good night!" said the manager. "Enjoy yourselves!" 

I noticed he didn't add "Sleep well!" He knew sleep 
was the last thing on our minds. 

We thanked him and left the stage. I kissed the little 
waitress good-bye and slipped my arm gently round 
Bob's waist: he guided my feet as I tip-toed in my 
slender heels in the darkness along the uneven path. 

"You didn't mind my going off like that, did you?" I 
asked tentatively. "With that man, I mean?" 

"Not at all. I hope you had fun. Watching you gave me 
a good erection, and your little waitress friend 
noticed and sucked me nicely. Are you going to have 
her? I want to watch if you do." 

I had hoped this would be the moment to introduce the 
subject I was longing to discuss, but we seemed to be 
moving away from it. I tried again. 

"If I do anything you don't like," I said shyly, "I 
hope you will ... er ... teach me." 

I wanted to say "punish me", of course, but somehow my 
courage failed me. He looked down at me with a smile. 

"Oh, yes," he said. "I certainly shall." 

Of course we both knew what was going to happen as 
soon as he, and I, and the lovely new whip arrived at 
our suite. But I left it at that for the moment. I let 
my head fall against his shoulder as we walked. 

"Ah, it's so nice being nude together. Here in the 
open air," I said. 

"You say that now, do you? You made me wait a long 
while." 

"I explained to you. I was making _myself_ wait." 

"Are you going to stay nude for the rest of our 
holiday?" 

"Perhaps. We'll see," I said flirtatiously. "Maybe 
I'll wear little things sometimes. Little things to 
please you - for you to take off. And little things to 
please me." 

"What sort of little things please you?" 

I hesitated for a moment. 

"Do you remember what you said a while ago? About how 
tight my, er, you know, arsehole was and how nice it 
was for you?" 

"Yes, I think so," he said. 

"And then you said - I thought it was so clever of you 
- you said it must be the same nice feeling a girl 
gets from a tight corset." 

"Do _you_ like wearing a tight corset?" 

"Oh, yes. Yes! If it's really, _really_ tight ... and 
wearing nothing else, of course ... except shoes, and 
other ... you know ..." 

"Other bondage gear? Yes, I'd like to see you do 
that." 

I nodded, my heart too full to speak. 

"I've wanted to fuck you ever since I first saw you," 
said Bob. "Of course. But I'm so glad our first fuck 
was in public." 

"So am I! I _love_ fucking in public." 

"And I love girls who love it." 

"You're not jealous?" 

"Of course not! I like my girls to be promiscuous 
little sluts." 

I let out a great sigh of contentment. 

"Yes, that's what I am. Ever since I first appeared at 
a strip-club ... the manager hadn't told me that as 
soon as I was nude men would come up on stage and fuck 
me while the others watched. It was _such_ a lovely 
surprise! And then I _knew_ that was what I wanted to 
do. Always ... without stopping for a moment." 

"And get paid for it?" said Bob with a smile. 

"No, no ... maybe when I'm old enough to work for 
money. For now I just do it for my own pleasure." 

Bob stopped and kissed me. His hands stroked my 
pierced breasts. 

"How lovely you are!" he said. "My _perfect_ girl." 

We walked on for a while. A thought struck me. 

"You know, it's a funny thing about being nude. It 
feels so natural, and nice; and yet ... if we did it 
all the time perhaps we wouldn't enjoy it so much." 

"Yes, clothes can be very stimulating. The right sort 
of clothes, on the right sort of girl." 

"And the rules about what we cover up and don't are so 
strange. I mean, just now it's quite normal for a girl 
to go about in public showing off her legs; but before 
it became the fashion if she did that everyone would 
say she looked like a prostitute." 

"I like a girl to look like a prostitute," he said. 

I gave him a little tap on his bare bottom. Just 
half-way between a stroke and a slap. 

"You would," I said. 

"But girls enjoy looking like prostitutes. Secretly. 
Go on, admit it." 

"Of course we do," I said. "But only when all the 
other girls are doing it too." 

"Well, I'm glad they're all doing it now. The shortest 
possible skirt, the longest possible hair and the 
highest possible heels - that's my idea of the perfect 
girl, and don't you forget it." 

"Or no skirt at all - just the heels and the hair," I 
said, tossing my head and skipping a little in my 
heels to show what I meant. 

"Yes. Better still. But not so easy to introduce as a 
popular fashion," he said. 

"It's strange, really," I went on. "A girl has three 
holes to be fucked in. That's the way nature, the 
Gods, made her. It's nice. But somehow we insist that 
in public at least a girl must cover up two of her 
holes and leave the third one free for everyone to 
see. Why is that?" 

"I don't know; but it's given me an idea. Why don't we 
start a fashion which allows girls to expose any hole 
they like so long as they hide the other two? Think of 
girls going doing the street with their mouths firmly 
sealed with a ball-gag or something like that, and 
wearing skirts which are either completely frontless 
or completely backless, showing either their pussies 
or their arseholes? Can you imagine anything more 
delightful?" 

I giggled happily. We were nearly at the door of our 
suite. As soon as we were inside I went to the 
bedroom. In our absence the staff had removed the 
coverlet from the big bed and made everything ready 
for our night together. I lay back naked on the cool 
sheet and kicked my feet in their deliciously tight 
shoes. 

"Come and fuck me," I said softly. "Please." 

Bob looked down at me. 

"I'm not sure I can just yet," he said. "Not after 
what your waitress friend did to me." 

"Beast." 

"But I'm sure I can work up an appetite." 

He shook out the lashes of the whip. 

"Oh, yes ... _please_!" I said. "I'm longing for it. 
It's _so_ beautiful ..." 

There was no point in pretending not to want it. 
Acting coy, and begging for mercy, could come later. 

"Do you have a corset with you?" he asked. 

"Of course! Shall I put one on?" 

"Yes. I think you'd look nice in a corset. That would 
give me an appetite all right." 

I jumped off the bed and ran to the dressing-room. 
From the shelf where I had stored it I pulled out a 
little corset in white leather, designed to squeeze my 
waist cruelly while leaving my breasts and arse 
uncovered. It had a series of silver buckles down the 
front, but they were for decoration: the real 
constriction came from the long laces zig-zagging down 
the back. It was a present from a lover who liked to 
see his girl bound as tightly as possible and to hear 
her squealing with pain - I mean pleasure. Perhaps Bob 
had the same perverted fetish. I hoped so. 

I fixed the pretty corset round me as best I could, 
then walked demurely back to Bob in my high heels. 

"Please make it tighter," I said shyly. 

I turned my back, and gasped with delicious pain as 
his strong fingers pulled the laces tighter, ever 
tighter, round the metal hooks. At last he was 
satisfied, and knotted the ends in a double bow. 

"May I see?" I asked in a little voice - my breath 
came only in tiny gasps now. 

"Of course." 

There was a big mirror in a corner of the room. I 
preened and pirouetted in front of it: I had never 
seen myself look so beautiful. Bob stood behind me and 
petted me. At last I leant back against him. 

"Please whip me," I murmured. 

"Not yet," he said. 

I turned to him in astonishment. 

"Oh, but you _must_!" I said imploringly. "With that 
lovely new whip ... with all those beautiful lashes 
... and I want it _so_ much!" 

"You'll want it even more if you have to wait." 

"Beast! I want it now!" 

"Of course you do; but I want you to want it even 
more. After all, you're mine now and must do what _I_ 
want." 

His strong hands tightened round my little constricted 
waist, imprisoning me even more. I decided I liked the 
idea of being his submissive slave. I twisted round 
and knelt before him - carefully, my corset made 
movement difficult - and took his cock in one hand, 
weighing and tickling his heavy balls with the other. 

"Oh, it's so _big_!" I said, "and so beautiful!" And 
then, after a brief interruption, when I could speak 
again, "and it tastes so lovely when you come!" 

"You like the taste of cum?" 

"Well, of course! Every girl does. I just can't get 
enough of it." 

I knew very well that men love to hear a girl say 
that, which was why I said it - don't you think I'm 
growing up to be a naughty little flirt? - but it was 
true as well. 

I was suddenly aware of a strange noise in the 
distance. I stood up, walked carefully to the window 
and leaned out into the dark. 

"It sounds like screaming," I said. 

Bob joined me at the window. 

"Yes, you're right," he said. "It's a girl screaming. 
I expect her lover is torturing her." 

The screaming stopped, for a moment, then started 
again. I was conscious of other noises in the night. 
Somewhere nearby a girl was alternately sobbing and 
begging for more. 

"Oh, the lucky, lucky girls!" I said softly, then 
turned and kissed Bob. "You will torture me too, won't 
you, and make me scream in agony like those girls are 
doing?" 

"Of course, darling, all in good time." He put his 
hands tight round my waist and made me gasp with the 
sudden pain. "I want you to scream louder and more 
beautifully than any of them. Promise?" 

"Of course I will. If you promise to make me!" I stood 
on tiptoe and kissed him. "I won't let you down. 
Everyone here will say, 'How cruel that _gaijin_ is 
being to his little Japanese girl - and what a 
_fantastic_ time she must be having!'" 

He said nothing, but looked down at me in a way that 
made me shiver with fear and desire. 

"It's so lovely to be here with you," I went on, more 
seriously now, "and I want you to do all the things to 
me that you most like doing to a girl. I want to learn 
all the things you enjoy most. So I can enjoy them 
too." 

"Some of the things I like are a bit ... you know 
..." 

"Perverted? But I _love_ perverted sex!" 

"Where did you learn that word?" asked Bob, laughing. 

"Isn't it right?" I asked anxiously. "I was reading 
about it in a series in a girls' magazine and I looked 
it up." 

"Yes, it's right. Or you could say kinky." 

"Kinky," I said, trying it out. "No, I think perverted 
sounds nicer." 

"The way you say it, it is. But what do you call 
perverted?" 

"Well," I said, trying to remember the articles 
exactly, "I suppose any kind of sex that isn't just 
you fucking my cunt is perverted to some extent." 

"That gives us a lot of scope." 

"Of course, the perverted sex I love best of all," I 
went on seriously, and looking at him reproachfully, 
"is being tied up and whipped." 

"Go on." 

"Won't you _please ...?" I begged, looking longingly 
at the lovely white leather cat lying on the bed. 

"Tomorrow." 

"_Tomorrow_? But I can't wait till tomorrow!" 

"Yes, you can. It's all part of the pervertedness. 
Dream of it. Long for it. Think how much more you'll 
love it when I at last let you have it." 

"Mm'mm, I suppose there is something nice and kinky 
about that," I said, trying to please him by using his 
word. "But you won't make me wait too long, will 
you?" 

"Tomorrow morning. I promise. Think of the appetite 
_I'm_ building up. Making myself wait too." 

There was something in that. Surely he would whip me 
all the harder after spending the night looking 
forward to it. It was a bit like the way I teased 
myself when I was stripping, making myself, as well as 
my audience, wait before at last giving us both the 
pleasure of my complete nudity. 

"Go on about perversions," he said. 

"Is that what you call perverted things in general? 
Well, I want to specialise in perversions. When I 
start my career. So please teach me all you know about 
them." 

"Start by telling me about the ones you already 
know." 

"Well, taking you up my arse. Breasturbating you. 
Sucking your cock and drinking your cum," I said. "Of 
course that. And having you suck me in return. Did you 
enjoy doing that?" 

"Loved it," he said. "I want you to sit on my face 
again. In just a few minutes. You taste really good." 

"Thank you. Of course we did that on stage together. 
Are sex and nudity in public perversions? They feel so 
nice and so natural." 

"Well, I certainly wouldn't want you to stop doing 
them," said Bob, "so let's assume they are perversions 
and belong in your repertoire. Now," he went on, 
stretching out on the bed behind me, "I'm hungry 
again. Come and wash my face with your gorgeous pussy. 
Let's be perverted together." 

"Tighten my corset more first." 

"Are you sure you can stand it?" 

"I can stand _anything_ ... if it's really kinky." 

So then I knelt over him, while his strong hands round 
my tormented waist pulled my crotch tightly down over 
his mouth and nose. His clever tongue soon brought me 
to orgasm and my pussy poured its thick juice into his 
greedy mouth. This time I leant backwards, resting my 
hands on the bed behind me, so that my anus was easily 
available to him: he took the hint at once and his 
tongue travelled endlessly between my two holes, 
swinging me helplessly to and fro. The ecstasy of my 
cunt and anus combined with the agony of the corset 
took me straight to heaven. 

At last his cock could stand it no longer and we 
twisted round into a sixty-nine position: I stroked 
and sucked him to orgasm and drank his rich creamy 
cum, while he teased my delighted cunt with his 
fingers. 

== 

I was wakened by the morning sunlight streaming 
through the open windows. We had not bothered to close 
them or draw the curtains: anyone who wanted was 
welcome to watch us and share our pleasure. To my 
surprise we were still lying head to tail, his flaccid 
cock close to my lips and his head pillowed on my 
thigh. Then I remembered how we had fallen asleep, in 
that position, lips and tongues gently pleasuring each 
other. I had been sleeping in my high heels and my 
feet felt cramped. I eased my shoes off, kicking them 
onto the floor and wriggling my toes luxuriously. 

Very carefully I slid out from under the sheet which 
partly covered us. I was naked: Bob had insisted on my 
removing my corset before sleeping, despite my pleas 
that wearing it through the night could give me 
delightful dreams of thrilling sexual torment. I 
picked it up along with my shoes and tiptoed to my 
dressing-room. 

I found the key to my white leather collar, removed 
it, and treated myself to a luxurious western-style 
bath. Then I patted myself dry, made up my face, 
renewed the gold varnish on my toenails, and lightly 
scented my breasts and pussy. It was time to decide 
what to wear for the pleasures of the day ahead. 

I had worn white for my first "honeymoon" night. It 
would be nice to wear white again: it would match the 
beautiful whip for whose kisses I was so longing, and 
its white lashes would look pretty blending with white 
straps and fetish gear. But on the other hand black 
suggested dungeons, bondage, torture - and my aim was 
to suggest to Bob the experiences I most enjoyed. 
Perverted. Kinky, to use his word. 

So black it was: tight black shoes with heels so high 
I could hardly manage them, black wrist- and 
ankle-cuffs, a high black collar forcing me to hold my 
head proudly upright, a halter round my breasts with 
silver studs decorating the leather straps where they 
crossed. Finally I hung a pretty pair of silver bells 
from the rings in my nipples. Should I wear a gag? I 
had a lovely one with straps over my forehead as well 
as round the back of my head. No: I would invite Bob 
to gag me, but leave the decision to him. Probably he 
would prefer to leave me free to scream and beg for 
mercy. Yes, it would enhance his reputation as a lover 
if the other hotel guests could hear me! The thought 
made me giggle pleasurably. 

I walked back into the bedroom, teetering on my heels, 
holding the gag in one hand and letting its straps 
dangle behind me. Bob was awake, sitting naked on the 
bed. He looked at me appreciatively and reached for 
me; but I avoided his hands and made for the beautiful 
white whip lying on the table where he had left it. I 
picked it up and presented it to him with a bow. 

"Now?" he asked. He sounded reluctant. I hoped he was 
only pretending. 

"Now," I said firmly. "You promised." 

"Oh, all right. How about coming in your mouth 
first?" 

"Whipping first," I insisted, "_Lots_ of whipping. 
Then all the fucking you want." 

"Come with me, then," he said, scrambling off the bed 
and taking my hand. "Nice cuffs," he added as he 
opened the door to our suite and led me onto the broad 
wooden veranda outside which overlooked the garden. 

"Thank you," I said. I'm glad you like them. Is there 
anything else you'd like me to wear? Would you like to 
gag me?" 

I held out the gag and face-mask I had brought with 
me. 

"No, I think not. You'd look pretty gagged but I'd 
prefer to hear you scream." 

So I had guessed correctly. But I pretended to be 
surprised. 

"Are you going to make me scream?" 

"Oh, _yes_, darling," he said softly, as he held me 
with his free hand and kissed me tenderly. "You will 
scream. You won't be able to stop. You will scream so 
that everyone will hear you. 'That must be the little 
Japanese girl being tortured,' they will say." 

"_Ohhh_," I said. "And how they will envy me ... the 
girls, at least." 

My heart was beating fast and I could feel the juice 
gathering in my pussy. This was going to be lovely. 

In the middle of the front rail of the veranda was a 
broad empty doorway framed with strong beams. In the 
sunlight I could see that there were four big 
cup-hooks fixed to the verticals, with short ropes and 
clips hanging from each. It was a simple rustic 
whipping-frame, but it would do. Bob put down the 
whip, then positioned me on the top step and fixed the 
four clips to my cuffs. When he had shortened the 
ropes, I was tautly spread-eagled in the sunshine, 
facing towards the lush garden of the hotel. Bob 
patted my bottom and gave my nipples a friendly tweak. 

"Very nice," he said. "I shall enjoy whipping you like 
that. But just one or two decorations first." 

He left me for a moment, then returned with items in 
his hand I could not quite see. He stood in front of 
me and held two little pincers before my face. 

"You know what these are?" 

"They look like little clothes-pegs." 

"Yes; and I'm sure you know how clothes-pegs are used 
for sexual pleasure. But these are special. Look how 
strong the springs are." He demonstrated, closing the 
pegs tightly onto his finger. "And look at the little 
metal jaws with their tiny sharp teeth. Do they excite 
you?" 

"Oh, _yes_! They're beautiful! Where did you get 
them?" 

"They're made expressly for masochists like you to 
enjoy, and sadists like me to use on helpless girls. 
You can get them in specialist sex-shops." 

"Specialists in perversions?" 

"That's right. For sweet girls like you who like their 
sex, well, perverted. Shall I put them on?" 

"Oh, yes, _please_!" 

Delicately Bob opened one of the little pincers and 
fixed it firmly over one of my nipples. A great rush 
of pain surged through me. 

"Is that enough, or would you like the other one 
too?" 

I was beyond speech. I could only look at him 
pleadingly. He took his time, letting the sharp jaws 
close slowly, so slowly, over the other hard, erect 
nipple. The glorious pain was like an electric circuit 
flooding through my body and merging with the flow of 
pleasure from my pussy. 

"Thank you. Oh, thank you!" I mouthed silently. I want 
to wear them always ... always ... I wanted to add, 
but couldn't. 

"I like my girls to hold their heads up when I whip 
them," Bob was saying. 

I guessed at once that the other device he was 
carrying was a nose harness of some kind. He quickly 
inserted the padded hooks into my nostrils, led the 
cord over my head and through a metal loop at the back 
of my leather collar, then pulled it tight till I was 
gazing at the tops of the trees. 

"Very nice," he said, knotting the cord firmly. "Very 
arousing. Now I shall begin. Do you want to know how 
many strokes I shall give you?" 

"No," I murmured. "I am your slave. Torture me as much 
as you wish." 

"You're sure it won't be too much for you?" 

"It can't _possibly_ be too much!" I said indignantly. 
"Just try and see!" 

"Very well." 

The lovely new lashes were awaiting me, ready to be 
broken in on my soft trembling flesh. Bob took up 
position behind me where I could not see him. 

"Ready?" 

"Oh, ready!" I whispered. "I'm _always_ ready." 

For a few moments he teased me by just tickling me 
with the lashes: then their full force swished down on 
me. Bob concentrated on my bottom, of course, but 
varied his angle so that my thighs and my waist also 
received their share. The long lashes curled right 
round me, and sometimes Bob cleverly used only their 
tips on my thighs so that the ends could pass between 
my legs and flick their lovely pain at my dripping 
pussy. I lost all sense of time as I swayed 
ecstatically in my bonds and absurdly high heels. Soon 
I began to scream joyfully at every fierce stroke. I 
didn't care if I was heard by other guests. I _wanted_ 
to be. This heavenly place no doubt rang night and day 
to blissful screams of ecstasy from tortured girls. I 
had heard them in the night: now at last I was one of 
them. 

All at once, with one part of my mind, I heard voices. 
People were approaching along the path to our suite. 
Tied as I was I could not see them, but at last they 
came into view and stood in front of me: a man and a 
girl carrying an elaborate breakfast on two trays. The 
man showed little reaction but the girl smiled 
broadly. 

"Good morning sorrr! Good morning maam!" she said. 

Bob kept on whipping, and I kept on groaning, 
squealing and begging for more. 

"Don't worry sorrr, maam!" she cried. "We'll go round 
the side." 

There was a little gate in the side of the veranda 
railing. They disappeared from my vision and busied 
themselves, I supposed, with laying out the breakfast 
on the table behind us. Then they returned with just 
the empty trays, and bowed. 

"Thank you, maam! Thank you sorrr!" said the girl. 
"Have a good day!" And then, stepping outside the 
script she had learned, "Be happy, maam!" 

Bob went on whipping me as if nothing had happened and 
I went on screaming and imploring. But even heaven 
cannot last for ever, and at last Bob threw the whip 
aside and moved close to me. I could feel his erection 
pressing urgently against my hot, tormented bottom. 

"That was lovely, darling," he whispered in my ear. 

"It was lovely for me, too. Heavenly. Must you stop?" 

"I can't go on for ever. Now, shall we fuck? Or would 
you like breakfast? Or shall I just leave you hanging 
here helpless so I can enjoy looking at you?" 

"Oh, fuck me, darling. Please fuck me." 

So Bob released me from my bonds and my nose harness, 
and carried me carefully onto the lawn in front of our 
suite. The grass tickled and stimulated my tingling 
flesh beautifully. 

"Please let me keep my nipple-clamps," I begged. 

"Of course. They look sweet on you." 

He took me in his arms and thrust his huge erection 
straight into my dripping pussy. We were both so 
aroused it didn't take us long to come. We did nothing 
kinky, but straight sex is good too, occasionally, if 
you can find time for it between the perversions. 

== 

After breakfast, and another session of fucking on the 
lawn, we had wandered out to explore the resort's 
grounds. Now we were sitting lazily together under a 
tree in the big garden: I was half lying between Bob's 
open legs and leaning against his bare chest. I was 
naked above the waist too, and he was stroking my 
breasts and everywhere else he could reach, whispering 
into my ears from time to time that I would surely be 
more comfortable completely naked. I had on only a 
stiff little microskirt, tightly moulded to my bottom 
and with a broad leather belt snug round my waist, 
which I had chosen to wear on our walk, knowing it 
would tease and tempt him even more than complete 
nudity would have done. No panties, of course; and 
shoes with heels and ankle straps. In fact the shoes 
were a bit difficult for wearing in a garden; but I 
knew the stimulating effect they had on Bob, and that 
was what mattered. 

I was looking forward to getting completely nude, but 
there was no hurry. For the moment it was nice to lie 
within Bob's arms, remembering the morning's glorious 
lovemaking. I hoped he was remembering it happily too: 
my bottom was still tingling delightfully. 

"Let me help you take your skirt off," said Bob for 
the umpteenth time, his fingers giving my nipples a 
sexy pinch. "We could leave our clothes here and go 
for a walk through the woods." 

"Later," I replied. "I'm busy." 

"What are you doing?" 

Of course he could see very well what I was doing, but 
I guessed he would enjoy hearing me tell him, and why. 
I had brought my beloved whip out into the garden - 
the beautiful cat with nine long white lashes which 
stung so deliciously as they caressed my eager bottom 
- and was tying a series of hard knots into each lash. 

I wriggled closer to him so that my bottom could 
massage the agreeably hard lump between his legs, and 
explained. 

"So that it will hurt you more?" he asked teasingly. 

"Yes. So that it will hurt me more. So that you can 
hurt me more when you make love to me with it." 

By wriggling closer to him I had caused my skirt to 
move up my bottom and just reveal my crotch, a fact of 
which we were both very aware. Bob began to tickle the 
outer lips of my pussy; then he took his fingers away 
and licked them. 

"Please don't stop," I murmured. 

He put his fingers back where they belonged, exploring 
a little deeper and higher. 

"Do you call it making love when I whip you? I like 
that." 

"Well, of course. It's the best way of making love 
there is. For me, at any rate. I suppose it must be 
frustrating for you, doing all that work and me 
getting all the pleasure." 

"I make up for it later. If you remember." 

I giggled. I remembered. 

"If you take your skirt off we could find somewhere in 
the woods for me to whip you. Make love to you, I 
mean." 

"Later. I haven't finished yet." 

"Let me see what you're doing." 

I handed him the whip, showing him the lash I was 
currently working on. He ran it through his fingers, 
then tied the next knot himself, pulling it tight and 
hard. 

"Like that?" 

"Just like that," I said, testing his work with my 
fingers. "I'll remember that you made this special 
knot whenever it kisses me." 

I kissed the hard little knot myself; twisted round in 
Bob's arms and kissed him; and then snuggled back into 
my original position. 

"You remind me of something I was reading recently," 
said Bob. 

"Oh yes? What?" 

"I'm doing some research into nineteenth-century 
English pornography."[24] 

"Did they have pornography then?" 

"Oh, yes. Some of it is very good. I'm thinking about 
working with some Japanese friends to publish a series 
of translations." 

"Did they whip each other?" I asked, pulling another 
knot tight. 

"Of course they did! They loved whipping! They did it 
all the time. Of course the equipment was less 
sophisticated. What they really enjoyed was whipping 
each other with birch twigs." 

"Really? Was that nice, do you think?" 

"They used to cut long flexible twigs from birch 
trees, bind them in bundles and whip till they broke 
and fell apart. The girls adored it, and kept begging 
for more; and the men liked it too." 

"Why do I remind you of that?" 

"Well, watching you working on that whip, adapting it 
so it will hurt you even more ... there's a section in 
one of the stories I've been reading." 

"Tell me." 

"Well, in the story a boy and his girl have just spent 
their first night together. They are in a garden, just 
like we are. Except that they are wearing clothes. He 
is telling her how wonderful she was, and she is shyly 
thanking him for everything he did to her." 

"Sounds rather tame," I said. 

"And he takes her to a birch tree and invites her to 
choose the twigs she will be whipped with next." 

"That's more like it!" 

"So she chooses twigs, just as you are working on your 
lashes. Ones that will really, really hurt. Of course 
she is very inexperienced and doesn't know which ones 
to choose. So he shows her the ones with hard knots in 
them ... just like the knots you're putting in that 
whip ... and tells her they're the ones she will love 
best because of course they will hurt most. And she 
feels them with her fingers and blushes and says shyly 
'yes', and he cuts them for her. It's a very charming 
scene. Then they sit on the grass together, and he 
binds the twigs into big, strong bundles. And she 
strokes them and kisses them, and decorates the 
bundles with pretty pink ribbons." 

"That's a nice idea. Does the story tell how he beats 
her with them - makes love to her with them, I mean?" 

"Oh, yes! They find a private place, she pulls up her 
skirts - she isn't wearing anything underneath, you 
see - and asks him very prettily to whip her. He 
invites her to choose one of the bundles of twigs, so 
she does that, and kisses it, and begs him to give her 
a lovely whipping with it. Which he does till it falls 
to bits."[25] 

"Lucky girl!" 

"Shall we go to a private place so I can beat you like 
he did?" 

"Not yet," I said, "I want to finish this first." 

"You really want me to hurt you more?" 

"Of course! You know I do. I adored the pain you gave 
me this morning. I can never have enough. And I can 
never forget it was you who taught me." 

"I thought it was a teacher at your school who gave 
you your first experience." 

"Well, yes, and there were others who whipped me. Some 
of them were very good. But you have taught me to love 
it." 

"What does it feel like when I whip you?" Bob asked 
after a pause. 

"Wonderful! You know that." 

"Yes; but I mean, in detail, step by step." 

"Well," I said, starting on the next lash, "the first 
few strokes - say the first four or five - are 
excruciatingly painful. When men did it to me the 
first few times I didn't think I could stand it. But 
then I began to love the pain because of what comes 
next." 

"Yes. I enjoy the way you screamed, and then begged me 
to go on." 

"Anyway, recently I've found I love those first few 
strokes more and more. Not just because of the way 
they bring me to the threshold of pain and pleasure. 
But for their own sake. For the pure pain they give. 
It's beautiful." 

I pulled another knot tight and hard. Another lash 
finished: two more to do. Then I could ask Bob to try 
out the improved whip on me. It was a good moment to 
suggest something I had been thinking about for some 
time. 

"I'd like to ask you ... it would be nice if you would 
stop for a bit after those few opening strokes. You 
know, pull me back. Don't let me pass the threshold. 
Make me experience the pain again. And again ... and 
again ... and then push me over into pleasure when you 
want to. Make it your gift to me. Make me wait for 
it." 

My heart was beating fast and I could feel my pussy 
flooding with nectar. I could hardly find words to 
explain what I wanted. But Bob understood. 

"Would you really like that?" 

"Oh yes! You do understand, don't you?" I added 
anxiously. 

"Sure. But it would hurt you terribly." 

"Oh yes!" I said again. "Wonderfully." 

"Shouldn't we set a limit at first? Or have some way 
you can tell me you've had enough?" 

"Don't be ridiculous!" I said indignantly. "You don't 
understand at all. Not knowing how long it will last 
... fearing it might go on for ever ... that's what 
will make it so incredibly exciting." 

"All right. Four or five strokes ..." 

"... Very, very hard ones ..." 

"... Then a pause to bring you down again. Then some 
more strokes, then stop again. Just when you are about 
to cross the pleasure threshold. Then again ... and 
again ..." 

"That's right!" I said. "Just pain, agony. Pure. 
Beautiful. And not knowing how long it will go on." 

"It sounds very sadistic." 

"Yes. Oh, yes! Utter bliss! Pure perversion." 

Bob licked his fingers. 

"You know, there's a lot of lovely cunt-juice going to 
waste here." 

"Well - just thinking about it ..." 

"Yes, I know - but I hate waste. Why don't you sit on 
my face for a while?" 

I scrambled up and helped Bob lie on his back on a 
comfortable patch of grass near the tree. Then I 
pulled my tight little skirt up round my waist - well, 
it was more or less there already, of course - and 
knelt either side of his head. Some drops of juice 
pattered onto him. I began carefully lowering my 
crotch over his face. 

"While I'm sucking you," he said before it was too 
late, "you can go on telling me what it feels like to 
be whipped. You know, crossing the threshold, and what 
happens next." 

Then his mouth was fully occupied kissing and licking 
my pussy, his hands firmly on my waist under the 
little skirt, his tongue digging deep into my 
love-hole and slurping up the juice which had gathered 
there. After a little while I decided to give him an 
extra treat, and without warning - the way I knew men 
liked it best - I began pissing into his open mouth. I 
felt rather than heard his shout of welcome, and his 
hands pulled me even more firmly onto his face, his 
mouth clamping itself to my pussy and pee-hole as if 
it were stuck there for ever. I could feel his throat 
muscles swallowing rhythmically. 

Of course at my age my experience is limited, but now 
I have got to know Bob better I believe he is unusual 
in his gourmet approach to sex. He loves the flavour 
of young Japanese girls' pee - much nicer, he says, 
than that of older girls which can be harsh and 
bitter. And of course much more delicious than the pee 
of Western girls. (He once said Korean girls' pee 
tasted of garlic, but I wonder if he wasn't making fun 
of me.) And of course he adores the taste of 
cunt-juice - but that's natural enough. I adore the 
taste and aroma of cum, and am doing all I can to 
sample lots of different varieties and try to identify 
the subtle differences. 

Suddenly, after my flow of fresh piss had come to an 
end, I felt him pull a little away from me and ask me, 
in a thick croak, to tell him more about whipping. I 
sat firmly down on his face. 

"Silence, slave!" I commanded. "No talking! Suck!" 

He obeyed me, and I rewarded him by telling him what 
he wanted to know. 

"Well, once I'm through the pleasure/pain threshold, 
then of course every stroke of the whip gives me the 
most incredible pleasure. But it's not just pain which 
has turned into pleasure. It's pain _felt_ as 
pleasure. It could become pain again at any moment, 
and that's what makes it so thrilling. Do that 
again!" 

The tip of Bob's tongue was scooping round and over my 
clitoris, making it erect itself helplessly and 
sending delicious spasms of pleasure right through me. 

"That's right, like that. And of course the whipping 
sends me up, up into a sort of unearthly paradise and 
keeps me floating there. It's like an old-style top 
being kept spinning. It can easily stop. Does stop, 
when you get tired of whipping me. But somewhere in 
the centre of that paradise I know there is perpetual 
bliss. One day I'll find it. Then I'll never come back 
... What are you doing?" 

Bob had altered position, pushing my bottom forward 
over his face; he had somehow formed the tip of his 
tongue into a hard point and was entering the muscular 
ring of my anus. 

"Oh, _yes_!" 

He was persuading me, in the best possible way, that 
what I really wanted was a good fucking. His mouth was 
back on my crotch now, his tongue deep inside me, 
sucking up the new flow of liquid his stimulation of 
my clitoris and anus had inspired. But I was 
determined to finish my work on the whip first. I 
looked round as best I could without breaking the firm 
bond between Bob's mouth and my aroused, dripping 
pussy. The whip was lying sprawled on the grass, just 
within reach. I somehow managed to get my fingers to 
one of the lashes, and hauled it in. Holding it now by 
the handle, I put it behind my back and let the lashes 
brush teasingly over Bob's bare chest. I felt rather 
than heard an "mm'mm!" sound vibrate deeply inside my 
cunt. 

I brought the whip round to my front again, identified 
the two lashes which had not yet been improved, and 
quickly tied the little knots, pulling them as tight 
and hard as possible. It did not take long: I knew 
very well that I had deliberately spun out the task so 
far, teasing myself - and Bob - by postponing the 
whipping and fucking which would follow. But I 
couldn't wait any longer. I pulled my crotch away from 
Bob's mouth, stood up, and helped him to his feet. 

"That was lovely," he said, licking his lips and 
wiping a hand over his glistening mouth, "but it 
didn't last nearly long enough." 

"Do you really like sucking my pussy so much?" I 
asked, for the twentieth time that weekend. 

"You know I do. You taste delicious. And thank you for 
the piss. That was a lovely surprise." 

I looked down modestly. 

"Help me take my skirt off," I said. 

Of course I could easily have taken it off by myself, 
but I knew he would enjoy doing it for me. He put his 
arms round me from behind and slowly undid the tight, 
broad belt. Then he knelt before me and pulled the 
tiny skirt down my thighs. He kissed my neatly trimmed 
cunt hair and looked up. 

"Ready, darling?" 

"Oh yes," I said. "I've been ready for ages." 

"Why didn't you say so?" 

"I wanted to tease you. You like being teased, don't 
you?" 

"Yes. And so do you, you little pervert." 

He was out of his jeans now, his cock beautifully 
erect. My hands reached out for it. 

"Oh, your darling cock," I said, "Wouldn't you like to 
fuck me first?" 

"Whipping first, then fucking," he said firmly. 

"Of course, Master," I said submissively. "Let's go 
and find a nice place for you to tie me up. You have 
brought some ropes, haven't you?" 

He picked up a small shoulder bag which had been lying 
under the tree, and looked down at me with a smile. 

"And ... and please remember what you promised." 

"What about?" 

"About ... you know ..." 

I could hardly continue. I was about to commit myself 
to the most exquisite torment I had ever enjoyed. It 
was all my own idea and I could only hope I could 
stand the agony. There would be no going back. 

"About stopping and starting again ..." I managed to 
croak out. "Not letting me cross the threshold ..." 

"You really want me to do that? Again and again? 
Torment you till you beg for mercy? Except we both 
know you won't?" 

I nodded in dumb supplication. He took me and kissed 
me, one hand lightly tickling my bottom with the tips 
of his nails, the other suddenly squeezing my nipple 
fiercely. 

"Oh, that was lovely!" I said when I had got my breath 
back. 

"What a sweet little masochist you are!" 

"Of course," I said. "All Japanese girls are 
masochists." 

"Nearly all," he corrected. 

"Well, some just haven't yet discovered the truth 
about themselves. They love pain really. They just 
have to learn." 

"Yes," said Bob. "And it's my job to teach them. 
That's my missionary work." 

Both fully naked now, we walked together into the 
woods in search of a suitable spot where I could be 
bound between the trees and subjected to new 
refinements of exquisite pain. My pussy and arsehole, 
damp with Bob's saliva, fluttered eagerly in the fresh 
air; but it would be a long while yet before they 
could be penetrated as they longed to be. I had the 
beautiful whip in my hand, its loving lashes dragging 
lightly along the grass. I was on my way to be 
tortured ... tortured slowly, ever so slowly, into 
Paradise. I longed for it more than I had ever longed 
for any sexual experience before. 

It wasn't difficult to find a suitable place. We came 
to a big tree with a horizontal branch about three 
metres above the ground. Someone had thoughtfully 
fixed a pair of short chains to the branch, ending in 
big steel rings. Bob put down the bag he was carrying, 
opened it, and produced black leather cuffs. I 
surrendered my lovely whip and held out my hands as he 
buckled the cuffs firmly round my wrists. Then he 
looped short lengths of rope between my cuffs and the 
rings hanging from the tree, and shortened them till I 
was standing tautly, my feet just able to take my 
weight as I stood in partial contact with the ground. 
Bob took another rope and tied my ankles firmly 
together, then wound the rope round my legs before 
tying the ends at the level of my knees. I was now 
completely helpless, and trembling with desire. 

"Torture me, Master - oh, please torture me," I 
murmured. 

"Soon, darling, soon. A little decoration first." 

He held before my eyes the pair of special masochist 
nipple-clamps, the ones he had used on me earlier that 
morning. He attached them tenderly, the fierce little 
jaws biting lusciously into my erect nipples. 

"Ohh, lovely! Ohh, thank you, Master!" 

"Now kiss the whip." 

"Of course. Before it kisses me." 

He held it to my lips, and longingly, lovingly, I 
kissed each darling lash in turn. 

"Please give me a good whipping. A _lovely_ whipping. 
The most wonderful whipping you ever gave anyone. Like 
that girl in the old story you were telling me about 
..." 

He disappeared from my line of vision, and I felt his 
fingers stroking the trembling flesh he was about to 
torture so beautifully. Then at last it came. 

"Swish ..." 

The most erotic sound I know: the tiny moment before 
the whip strikes, caressing and loving me. 

"Ohhh!!" 

The supple leather lashes bit into my arse, enhanced 
by the flashing golden points of extra pain from the 
little hard knots I had worked so hard to add to their 
beauty. 

"Swish ..." 

Again; this time with all Bob's strength. The pain was 
the most extreme I had ever felt; it flooded through 
my yearning body, pure and not yet blended with 
pleasure. 

Another short pause; another agonising stroke from the 
nine knotted lashes; and then again. I could sense the 
pain/pleasure threshold ahead of me: it was almost 
within my reach and I longed for it so ... a fifth 
stroke would send me, screaming with joy, through the 
gateway ... 

It didn't come. With a refinement of cruelty - which I 
somehow remembered, in another life, having devised 
myself - Bob let the lashes fall; I floated sadly back 
to earth. 

Three more times Bob subjected me to this refined 
torture, taking me to the edge of bliss and then 
refusing to let me cross it. I was completely 
helpless: I had not agreed with Bob how many times he 
would repeat the process, nor of course were we using 
cowardly devices like "safe" words. I had started on a 
journey which I was powerless to stop. I suddenly 
realised that this was the most extreme form of the 
self-teasing which I enjoyed so much: making myself 
wait for the moment when I finally became nude in a 
public performance, keeping myself unsatisfied and 
holding back from the ultimate sexual gratifica­tion 
... The fifth time Bob at last relented and allowed 
the lovely whip to take me all the way to the heart of 
Paradise, to that infinity of bliss and pleasure which 
I know is where I belong. 

== 

"Would you like me to go in costume tonight?" 

"What sort of costume?" 

"Well, I could dress as a schoolgirl ... or as a Roman 
slave-girl ..." 

I was thinking of the pretty waitresses and their 
daily change of costume. Last night they had been in a 
modified French maid uniform with naked breasts and 
miniskirts. What would they be wearing tonight? It was 
resort policy not to tell the guests in advance: it 
was meant to be a surprise. Would tonight be the 
dungeon theme my friends had told me about, and if it 
was, would I be allowed to volunteer for punishment? 

"Well, you're my slave-girl in any case, aren't you?" 
Bob was saying, petting me and playing with my 
breasts. 

"Yes Master ..." Suddenly I had an idea. "You remember 
what you wanted me to wear last night?" 

"Nothing at all, you mean?" 

"Yes ... you'd like that, wouldn't you?" I asked, 
tickling his balls with the tips of my fingernails and 
smiling coyly up at him. 

"No teasing? Of yourself or anyone else?" 

"No ... completely nude ... nude, nude, nude for 
everyone to see and enjoy." I was dancing and twirling 
round the room now in pure happiness. I came to rest 
again in his arms. "Of course that means I'll have to 
be fucked by anyone who wants me, like I am when I'm 
nude at my strip-club. Fucked, fucked, fucked ... 
again and again while everyone watches!" I started 
dancing round the room again. "Oh, I love it! You know 
the wonderful thing about being nude at a strip-club? 
It's being surrounded by all those beautiful 
erections! They're mine, mine, mine! I _made_ them by 
being a sexy nude girl! They weren't there before I 
made them! So they're _mine_ and I won't leave till 
I've fucked every single one of them!" I snuggled into 
his waiting arms again. "You won't mind, will you?" I 
asked anxiously. 

"Of course not." 

"Oooh, it's making me wet just thinking about it." 

"So it is. We've got plenty of time - come and sit on 
my face." 

"Mm'mm, yes! I'll hold you hard so you can't escape! 
You'll be my prisoner and have to suck me and lick me 
for _ever_!" 

"Lovely. But don't let's be late for dinner. You'll 
want plenty of time to show yourself off nude and give 
yourself to everyone." 

"Oooh, yes! But you want me to sit on your face first, 
don't you?" 

"Of course. I just said so. Do you need anything to 
drink first, or are you ...?" 

I knew what he meant. 

"No, I have plenty." 

I made him wait for it all the same. On his 
instructions I sat on the bed, his neck and shoulders 
resting on my crossed legs and his face buried in my 
pussy. By bringing my knees and feet closer together I 
was able to imprison him, holding his mouth tightly 
against me while his hands on my waist and hips pulled 
me even more firmly into the close unison we both 
loved. He licked and sucked me until at last I let 
loose the golden stream and let him gulp down the warm 
liquid in great mouthfuls - so delicious, or so he 
always said. Then he thanked me by teasing my clit and 
pussy and arsehole bringing me to orgasm after orgasm 
- or was it one continuous orgasm? I could hardly tell 
and I didn't care. 

How nice it is for a young girl like me to have this 
skilful, thoughtful older man always at my disposal to 
do all the things to me I love best - and to teach me 
to love so many other things. He is so generous! He 
makes me come repeatedly and comes so little himself. 
The least I can do in return is please him, like by 
going nude at dinner tonight.[26] One day, when I have 
started on my career as an AV idol and sex performer I 
shall have lots and _lots_ of lovers like him, but I 
shall never forget the good time we had this weekend - 
nor all the other good fucking and whipping we shall 
enjoy, I hope, when we return to Tokyo. 

"Oh, that was _so_ good!" said Bob, as at last we came 
apart. "I wish we could do that for ever!" 

"But your poor cock!" I said remorsefully, gesturing 
at his splendid, and neglected, erection. 

"Never mind! It will get plenty of action later. But 
sometimes it's so nice just to lie here and worship 
your lovely pussy. And still have the fucking to look 
forward to." 

I just giggled, blushed and didn't argue. 

Of course I didn't go to the restaurant totally nude. 
I wore pretty high-heeled shoes, snugly fitted the way 
I like them to show the elegant curved arch of my 
little feet. Then, just in case they were needed, I 
locked black leather cuffs set with strong D-rings 
round my wrists and ankles. I brushed my hair and 
checked that my pussy hair was still neat and 
enticing. Then I was ready. 

"How nice you look, Maam!" said my little waitress 
friend as she welcomed us to the restaurant. 

"So do you," I said. "What's the theme tonight?" 

"We call it 'The Disco'," she said. 

The waitresses were all wearing very tight, very short 
_bodikon_ dresses in different colours, outlining 
their pretty figures perfectly. It was obvious that 
they were wearing no panties. In their microdresses 
and slender high heels they looked just like the 
pretty, provocative girls who go to Tokyo discos, 
flaunting their sexuality as they dance. The effect 
was charming and I could see Bob's erection 
responding. 

I ate very little and soon the girls were inviting me 
to join them on stage. 

"May I? Oh, _please_ may I?" 

"Don't worry, Aya-chan," said Bob. "Go and enjoy 
yourself. I'll come and have you later." 

"Aya? Is that your name? It's nice!" said one of my 
companions. I recognised her as one of the girls who 
had helped me clean up after my public display with 
Bob the previous evening. 

"Well, Ayako in fact," I said. 

"Such a pity you won't be here tomorrow!" she 
continued. "We'll be doing 'The Dungeon'. We'd have 
invited you up on stage for _that_." 

"Will you be one of the girls being whipped?" I asked 
politely. 

"Oooh yes! We drew lots to decide who was to be 
punished, and I was one of the lucky ones!" 

"I'll be thinking of you," I said. 

I certainly would, I reflected, lying lonely and 
unsatisfied in my narrow bed at home in Tokyo. 

We were all up on stage by now, drawing appreciative 
attention from the audience. The sound system started 
playing loud, fast disco music. To begin with I had 
the thrill of being the only nude girl on show, but 
soon the other girls began to strip, their tight 
dresses peeled off and thrown aside as unwanted. 

We started dancing vigorously to the music, shaking 
our breasts and bottoms to the rhythm. Some of the 
lady guests climbed up onto the stage too, either nude 
already or undressing quickly as they joined us in the 
dance. Cameras flashed, roving spotlights caressed our 
nakedness, and the men gathered where they could look 
up at us. We danced more and more provocatively, the 
girls at the front of the stage high-kicking so that 
their admirers could get a good view of their pussies, 
glistening with the cunt-juice called up by the 
lascivious atmosphere. I was completely possessed by 
the sexiness of the dance, and wanted desperately to 
be fucked. 

Suddenly I saw one of the girls jump off the stage 
right into the arms of a naked man. Others did the 
same, and of course I was one of them! I targeted a 
man and leaped on him with a cry of "Oh, fuck me! 
_Fuck_ me!". He leant back in his seat and seized me 
round the waist, quickly sliding me into position so 
that his erection could enter me. I fucked him fast, 
keeping up the rhythm of the dance, and soon I was 
back on stage, my eager pussy now glistening with more 
than just cunt-juice. Again and again I leaped on my 
willing victims, perfecting the skill of landing on 
exactly the right spot to drag their cocks into my 
hungry cunt. I felt empowered, capable of fucking 
every man in the world. I could never, never have 
enough of this sublime experience. Sex, I thought, is 
what I am made for, and sex is what I want. Sex with 
great crowds of men, their huge erections teased 
beyond endurance and taking their turn as my three 
greedy love-holes impale themselves on their cocks and 
drink their rich cum. I never want it to stop. How 
could I, when I can never have enough? 

But after about an hour the vigorous dance came to an 
end and the music was replaced by something slower and 
more sensuous. 

"Look, Aya-chan is wearing cuffs!" the girl called out 
to the others. "We must tie her up! You'd like that, 
wouldn't you?" she asked me anxiously. 

"Of course!" 

The others wheeled forward a sort of padded table and 
I lay down on it, my face to the ceiling. They tied my 
wrists and ankles to the corners so that I was tightly 
stretched. At once they started petting and stroking 
me, pouring lotion over me, playing with the rings 
piercing my nipples, and running their fingers in and 
out of my cunt and arse as they dabbled in the mixed 
juices of so many men. Now I too had a series of tasty 
pussies sitting on my face and fitting firmly over my 
mouth, making my partners squirm and squeal with 
pleasure as I tried to do to them the lovely things 
Bob did to me. 

Soon I was at the bottom of a pile of wriggling 
slippery bodies, feeling as if every tiny bit of me 
was orgasmic. Of course I couldn't see easily what was 
going on elsewhere on the stage, but Bob told me 
afterwards that most of the audience, men and women, 
had joined in, the men fucking the waitresses or each 
other's partners and enjoying the pretty sight of 
multiple sexual joy all around them. Sometimes they 
pulled out of their partners just in time to spray 
their cum over the heap of femininity sprawled over my 
table, adding their cream to the lotion in which we 
were delightedly sliding and slithering. 

At last I heard a voice I recognised speaking softly 
in my ear. 

"Aya-chan, do you think your friends would let me have 
you now?" 

Of course they did, releasing me from my bonds and 
following excitedly as Bob led me to an unoccupied 
corner of the stage. 

"Do you want me to clean up first?" I asked anxiously. 
"I'm all slippery with lotion and ... and ..." 

"No, no - I'd like to have you like that." 

So Bob took me standing up, then leaning forward 
against the wall, then clinging to him with my arms 
and legs: his strong erection sliding in and out of my 
slippery holes as my body gleamed in the light and my 
audience cheered and urged us on. 

At last I fell to my knees on front of him and slid 
his juicy slimy cock into my mouth. It took him 
several lovely minutes, but at last his glorious cum 
spurted against my throat. After rolling it 
deliciously round my mouth, I let it all drool 
sluttishly onto my chin and pour down to mingle with 
all the other liquids coating my breasts. 

== 

"I have a surprise for you," said Bob as we walked 
slowly back to our suite. "Something to help you 
remember our last night." 

"Oooh! What is it?" 

"It's a _surprise_. I told you. Wait and see." 

Inside our room was a large object hidden under a 
sheet. 

"May I see?" I begged. 

"Not yet. Go and take a shower. Make yourself 
beautiful. Wear cuffs and your sexiest high heels. 
Nothing else. Bring some ropes." 

"Ropes? Ooh, yes!" 

I showered as quickly as I could and returned with a 
big selection of ropes. Bob had removed the sheet from 
the equipment, and I stood beside him looking at it. 
It had two square frames almost as tall as me, with a 
heavy horizontal beam linking the two. 

"Have you ever ridden a pony before?" asked Bob. 

"Not like this," I replied dubiously. "Where did you 
get it?" 

"I borrowed it from the hotel management. They have 
all sorts of equipment for guests to use." 

"What does it do?" 

"You sit in the middle," said Bob, "with this beam 
between your legs. It's triangular, you see, with the 
edge upwards." 

"Will it hurt?" I asked, with a mixture of anxiety and 
excitement. 

Bob took me in his arms and kissed me tenderly. 

"Oh yes, Ayako, it will hurt. It will hurt terribly. 
You will _love_ it. And I shall love watching you ride 
it, and listening to you scream and beg for mercy. I 
won't let it stop till you beg for mercy, you know." 

I immediately determined that nothing would make me 
beg for mercy. However great the torture I would stand 
it. I longed to be forced to stand it. 

"Are you ready?" 

"Oh, yes!" 

"Stand in the middle facing this way." I swung one leg 
over the beam. "Now lower yourself till you are 
sitting on it." 

The sharp serrated edge of the triangular beam fitted 
snugly into my crotch and stimulated my pussy. Bob 
took a long rope and knotted it firmly round my waist: 
then he tied the other end to the frame in front of 
me. Then he made me lean back - back till my shoulders 
pressed against the frame behind me and my arms 
dangled over it. He tied my wrist-cuffs to the frame. 
Then he pulled my feet well back and did the same with 
my ankle-cuffs. I was now bent into a curve - almost 
into a complete circle. 

"Very nice," said Bob. "Just a little decoration ..." 

He clipped wires to the rings piercing my breasts, and 
tied a rope to my hair pulling my head well back till 
I was gazing at the ceiling. That rope too he fixed to 
the rear frame. Then he took from the bedside table 
the pretty nipple-clamps I had worn for my whipping 
that morning, and gently fixed them to my nipples just 
over the rings. Once again I felt the luscious bite of 
the metal jaws. 

"Oh, how lovely!" I said to the ceiling. 

My toes were still just in contact with the floor. I 
felt myself being lifted on the beam as Bob turned an 
old-fashioned crank. All my weight was now pressing 
onto the beam embedded in my crotch. Leaning backward 
as I was I could feel it in my arsehole as well as my 
pussy. 

"Now," said Bob, "this is an old-fashioned torture 
device which was used to get confessions out of girls. 
Or to give the torturers some fun, I expect." 

"_And_ the girl being tortured," I managed to say. 

"Yes, exactly. The victim must have enjoyed it more 
than anyone. That is why it was so silly to subject 
Japanese girls to sexual torture. They would say 
anything to keep the torture going, they loved it so 
much. Anyway, in the old days the girl's best friends 
were forced to work the mechanism, under threat of 
being tortured themselves if they didn't do what they 
were told and do it properly." 

"What fun they all must have had!" I said. 

"But now of course the machine works on electricity. 
In a moment I will turn it on. I think you will enjoy 
it. I know _I_ will. When you've had enough, just tell 
me." 

"Rubbish!" I said. But not aloud. 

Well, I expect you can guess what it felt like when 
Bob plugged in the machine. The heavy beam vibrated 
between my legs, varying at random between different 
movements and intensities. Electrical circuits hidden 
in the edge of the beam delivered deliciously random 
shocks to my arse and cunt and, through the wires 
clipped to my rings, to my breasts. Add to that the 
increasing pain of my arched posture stretched on the 
machine and you can imagine the exquisite torment I 
enjoyed. 

I screamed, of course. Screamed joyfully and with all 
my heart. I was proud to show my happiness to Bob and 
to anyone who could hear me through the open window. 
And of course I never wanted this blissful torture to 
stop. 

After about an hour - Bob told me later it was, I had 
lost all sense of time - I saw movement above my head. 
Focussing my eyes, I saw that Bob was leaning over me. 

"Having fun?" he asked gently. 

"Oh, yes, _yes_!" And then anxiously, "Don't turn it 
off! Oh, _please_ don't! It's so marvellous! I love it 
so!" 

"No, of course I won't. I love it too - watching you 
being tortured and enjoying it so. But I want to get 
some sleep, and so do other people. So I'll just ..." 

I realised he was holding the ball-gag and face-mask I 
had shown him earlier. He quickly slipped the gag into 
my mouth, then fastened the buckles tight round the 
back of my head. 

"There! you look even more delightfully helpless like 
that. And I'll just ..." 

He tightened the ropes binding my wrists and ankles to 
the pony's frame, increasing the agonising pain in my 
thighs and shoulders even further. I think he also did 
something to the mechanism, increasing the power of 
its vibration and electric shocks. He bent over me 
again and kissed the tip of my nose where it emerged 
from the thick straps binding my face. 

"There! Sleep well, darling, Sweet dreams." 

And he was gone. 

Sleep, indeed, I thought. How can I? And how could I 
bear to miss a second of this? But somehow I did 
sleep, or at least faint or become unconscious. In my 
dreams the pony became a real live monster, carrying 
me across the world and through the air, torturing 
every millimetre of my tingling body, raping me 
gloriously, filling my every hole with huge white-hot 
cocks, as it bore me to heaven. 

Once again I woke to morning sunshine. I was still 
bound to my beloved mount, but the mechanism had 
stopped and the mask had been removed from my face. 
Bob kissed me, his tongue lapping the accumulated 
saliva from my mouth. 

"Oh, don't stop!" I begged. "I haven't had _nearly_ 
enough!" 

"Darling Ayako," he said, "you are the most fantastic 
girl I have ever known. If I could I'd leave you on 
this machine for ever. But we have to think about 
breakfast, and packing, and boring things like that." 

He released me from the torture machine and supported 
me to the bathroom where he helped me wash. 

"Time for a fuck," he said, when I had eased my stiff 
muscles and refreshed myself. 

He carried me to the bed and laid me out there. It was 
a beautiful, straightforward fuck: his lovely cock 
visited all three of my holes and finished in my 
mouth. 

"It's been a lovely weekend," I said, as I enjoyed my 
second breakfast, this time of fruit and toast. "I 
wish it could have lasted longer." 

"So do I." 

"But I have to get home before my parents do. They'll 
expect to see me there looking like a good girl in my 
school uniform, doing my holiday tasks. School starts 
next week." 

"Will I be able to see you then?" asked Bob. 

"Yes - I was thinking about that while I was ... you 
know, tied onto that lovely machine. Some of us meet 
after school at the gym. We could meet there." 

"Will I be allowed to? I don't want to get arrested 
for hanging around a school." 

"No one will notice. We have an arrangement with the 
caretaker." 

"How nice for him." 

"We have a little club. We call it the Rock-Hard 
Club." I looked at him and giggled. "I expect you can 
guess why. The club's been going for years at my 
school. On Tuesdays we invite our boyfriends and show 
them off to the other girls. You won't mind that, will 
you?" 

"I'll do my best not to let you down. When shall I 
come?" 

"The first Tuesday after school starts. A lot of girls 
will be there for the first meeting. We have fun. You 
know ... mostly lesbian, of course, but you'll enjoy 
watching and joining in, won't you?" 

"Thank you. I'd love to come." 

"It's the only thing I can do to thank you for this 
weekend. And - er - there'll be a little test. Just to 
check you meet our standards. But of course you'll 
pass all right." 

There was a funny look on Bob's face which I couldn't 
quite understand. I dismissed it and began to think 
about which girls I would invite to help me put him 
through the test, and all the things we should do to 
him while he was helpless and at our mercy. 


FOOTNOTES

[23] For any girl who may be reading this: my advice 
is that choosing sexy shoes is a difficult art 
requiring a lot of practice. I like to wear shoes that 
are just a little too small: not so small that they 
hurt me (I don't get a sexual thrill from _that_ sort 
of pain) but constricting enough to reduce the 
blood-flow and give me the tingling feeling known as 
pins-and-needles. Sandals or covered shoes? Most men 
like strappy sandals which leave your feet almost 
naked; but some like the court style - and if they do, 
they probably like the front of the shoe (what 
shoemakers call the "neck") cut low to show a glimpse 
of the cleavage between your toes. And of course 
_every_ girl should learn to wear the highest possible 
heels. They make your legs look great, suggest that 
you are a helpless prisoner unable to run away, and 
drive men _wild_ with lust! 

[24] Victorian pornography is a fascinating study. A 
good place to start is a magazine called _The Pearl_, 
which appeared from July 1879 to December 1880 with a 
final issue dated "Christmas 1881". It includes some 
very enjoyable serial novels. Complete sets are easily 
available in reprints and on the internet. In some 
ways our great-great-grandfathers' tastes were 
different from ours: they liked their girls fatter and 
with more pubic hair, for example. But their 
literature contains delightful and vivid descriptions 
of whipping, oral sex, slavery, nude sex-parties and 
so on.                                           - B W

[25] This charming ritual, which occurs often in 
Victorian porno­graphy, is based on real life. In his 
enjoyable and often stimulating study of Victorian 
sexuality _The Worm in the Bud: The World of Victorian 
Sexuality_ (London, 1969), Ronald Pearsall describes a 
Mrs Walter, who advertised "a respectable chastising 
service for unruly daughters", using "a strong narrow 
table, straps (waistband with sliding straps, anklets, 
and wristlets), cushions, and good long pliable birch 
rod." The victim would be required to bring the 
instrument herself from where it was kept, kiss it 
reverently, and beg to be given the best possible 
whipping. Afterwards, her sensuality on fire, she 
would again worship the instrument and, on her knees, 
prettily express her thanks and beg the gift of 
another lovely whipping soon. When a whipping had been 
promised in advance, she might be required to 
construct her own birch bundle from a quantity of 
twigs provided. Clearly an "unruly" daughter was one 
who had been detected in early experiments in 
masturbation, and the service provided by women like 
Mrs Walter was to ensure that she experienced the 
delights of the whip and the cane just at the right 
time for them to become an essential part of her 
sensuality.                                      - B W 

[26] This is nonsense, of course! Obviously men come 
less frequently than girls; but we have the pleasure 
of constantly looking at them, enjoying their 
sexuality, watching the effect they have on other men. 
I think girls are at their most beautiful when they 
are coming, and helping them come is my hobby. A very 
well rewarded hobby, I may say!                  - B W


[Next in Part 15: Chapter XV: Megumi: The Hundred-fold 
Curtain] 

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

