Becoming Master
Copyright© 2026 by Megumi Kashuahara
Chapter 6: Mei Ling
BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 6: Mei Ling - When Kiko confesses she's been in love with her stepsister Rin for six years, everything changes. The kiss that follows sends Rin spiraling—not with horror, but with recognition. As Rin reexamines every moment of their shared history, she begins to understand that what she'd called sisterly love might be something else entirely. Now they must navigate their feelings while living under one roof, knowing their parents may have suspected all along. A tender exploration of first love, identity, a
Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Ma/ft Fa/ft Romantic Slavery Lesbian BiSexual School Incest Mother Son Brother Sister Daughter BDSM DomSub MaleDom FemaleDom Polygamy/Polyamory Interracial Black Female White Female Oriental Male Oriental Female Anal Sex Analingus Cream Pie Facial Lactation Masturbation Oral Sex Petting Pregnancy Sex Toys Squirting Water Sports Big Breasts Small Breasts AI Generated
In the Yakamura home, each bedroom had a separate bathroom. The new Yakamura “S.O.P.” began with Midori waking Hikari up at 5:45am, drinking her and Kioko’s morning pee and went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Kioko did the same with Mioki.
After breakfast, Kenzo called Kioko into his office. He smiled and said, “Are you ready, you little cum slut to prepare your ass to get fucked tonight?”
She grinned lustily and replied, ‘Oooh, I love it when you get nasty. I’m more than ready. I’m already a sopping mess just waiting to see what you’re gonna do.”
“Pull your panties off, lift your skirt up and bend over the desk.”
Kenzo held up a one inch stainless steel butt plug. He began smearing KY jelly all over it.
“Oh god! That thing is gonna fit in my asshole?”
“You betcha, Baby. Ready?”
“Do it, Master!”
Kenzo lubed her anus and slid a finger inside her then added a second. “Oh god! Master. You keep this up I’m gonna cum!”
Kenzo rubbed her distended button only for about fifteen seconds when the little cum slut cried out gushing her juices onto his hand. He quickly withdrew his finger and pushed the butt plug home. He gave her a playful slap on her butt and said, “There you go, slut. Now go get me that French tart.”
“Can I have my panties back?”
“Nope. No underwear today.”
“Ah fuck! I’ll be dripping cunt slime down my legs and smelling like a bitch in heat all day!”
“Enjoy, slut. Just make positive contact with her today.”
“I’ll do my best, Sir”
“Now get outta here and go to school.”
On the bus to school, both Kioko and Mioko giggled when Kioko told her she had a butt plug up her ass with no underwear in all day.
Mioki stood at her locker on Wednesday morning, her binder already open in her hands. She flipped to the inside cover where Kenzo had taped her class schedule in a plastic sleeve. Second period ... English, room 204. She grabbed her English textbook and notebook, placed them carefully in her bag, and shut her locker.
“Hey, look, the middle schooler’s lost again.”
The voice came from behind her—Tyler Marsh and his pack of sophomore boys who thought they were hilarious. Mioki’s cheeks burned. She was fourteen, a freshman, but her flat chest and four-foot-eleven frame made her an easy target.
“Did you get separated from your elementary school field trip?” Another voice, more laughter.
Mioki clutched her binder to her chest and hurried past them, keeping her eyes down. The schedule taped inside had helped, but it didn’t protect her from their comments.
Homeroom was her safe space—Mr. Peterson never called on students randomly, and she sat in the back corner where she could be invisible. She slid into her seat with three minutes to spare and finally exhaled.
“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”
Mioki looked up to find it was Mei Ling. The tiny, petite Chinese girl. several inches shorter than Mioki at 4’-7”, with straight black hair cut in a neat pixie with bangs, and dark eyes that held a mix of nervousness and determination. She wore a pale-yellow cardigan over a white blouse, and her backpack looked new.
“No,” Mioki managed. “It’s free.”
The girl sat down, arranging her belongings with careful precision. “Renember me? Mei Ling. Mei Ling Chang.”
“Mioki. Mioki Yakamura.” I can’t believe it. She practically fell into my lap!
“Nice to meet you formally, Mioki.” Mei Ling’s smile was genuine, and something about her presence felt ... safe. Like she understood something without Mioki having to explain it. Mioki was suddenly smitten with an electric shock the went straight to her pussy.
Mr. Peterson started taking attendance, and Mioki snuck glances at the new girl. Mei Ling was small like her—only smaller with a very delicate build, no curves yet, the kind of frame that made people assume you weren’t even a teenager yet. Her clothes were modest, well-fitted, and she sat with perfect posture that somehow didn’t look stiff.
When the bell rang, Mei Ling turned to her. “What do you have next?”
“Um ... English. Room 204.”
“Me too!” Mei Ling’s face brightened. “Can I walk with you?”
Mioki nodded, surprised by how much she wanted the company.
They navigated the crowded hallway together, and Mioki noticed something: with Mei Ling beside her, the usual comments seemed muted. Maybe because there were two of them now. Safety in numbers, even if the numbers were small.
English passed in its usual fog of analysis and discussion that Mioki could follow academically but never quite felt confident enough to participate in. But having Mei Ling in the seat next to her made the fifty minutes feel less isolating. Third period was math—separate classes. But fourth period history found them together again, and this time Mei Ling chose the seat beside Mioki without asking.
Meanwhile in calculus, Kioko knew full well, she could smell her arousal. Her musk was evident to someone with a keen sense of awareness. She stopped at Ms. Marin’s desk and, standing next her seated at her desk, and asked her about a homework problem.
Ms. Marin took only three seconds before she gave Kioko a knowing look. She laid her hand on Kioko’s and asked her to take her seat.
Kioko sat, hiked her skirt up about three inches, and opened her legs slightly.
When Ms. Marin glanced at Kioko, she did a double take when she saw Kioko’s naked slit and something shiny between her ass and the chair.
The distracted teacher looked five more times during class. When the bell rang, Ms. Marin asked Kioko to stay after for a moment. When the class emptied, Kioko stood looking innocent at her desk.
She looked at the small, pretty Asian girl and asked, “Do you always go sans panties smelling like you just had sex?”
Kioko smiled and replied, “No Ma’am.”
“Then why today?”
“Honestly?”
“Honestly.”
“It’s because I want you to eat my pussy and asshole into oblivion.”
“How are you so sure I won’t turn you in and get you expelled?”
“Because I have been studying you all year. And to an observant person, it’s pretty evident you like little girl pussy. I just want you to like mine.”
“Are you gay or just curious?”
“I’m bisexual and never been with a woman. Just my sisters.”
“Your sisters? More than one?”
“Two. My baby sister owns me. I’m her little cum slut. When I told her I wanted you to eat me, she gave me permission to approach you.”
“Are you a lesbian or Bi. Ms. Marin?”
“I’m bi with the right man. If he can take me eating pussy, then I can suck and fuck cock.
Ms. Marin added, “Well, tell your sister that if I have her permission, I’d like to tongue fuck you ... to oblivion.”
“When?”
“Today after school.”
“Not today. I’ll let you know tomorrow.”
“Fine. I am anxious to taste that bare little cunny of yours.”
Lifting her skirt just a bit. Kioko asked, “Wanna taste? I’m sopping wet.”
Claudette reached under Kioko’s skirt and swiped a handful of her student’s cunt cream and sucked her fingers in her mouth. She pulled them out with a snack and said, “Boy-O-boy! That’s one tart, sweet little cunt!’
“Glad you like it!”
Kioko smiled, turned and said, “See yah tomorrow.” And left for lunch.
At lunch, Mioki faced her usual dilemma: sit alone at the corner table, or risk the cafeteria line where she’d have to decide what to eat. She’d been standing frozen at the entrance to the cafeteria for two full minutes when Mei Ling appeared at her elbow.
“Hey, I packed lunch. Do you want to sit outside? It’s nice today.”
The decision, made for her. Relief flooded through Mioki. “I ... I have lunch money, but I don’t know what to get.”
Mei Ling looked at the cafeteria line, then back at Mioki. “The pizza looks good today. And they have those chocolate chip cookies you can see from here. Want me to get in line with you?”
“Would you?”
“Of course.”
They joined the line together, and when they reached the counter, Mei Ling said, “Two slices of pizza and two cookies, please,” before Mioki could freeze up. The lunch lady loaded two trays, Mioki handed over her meal card, and just like that, the ordeal was over.
They found a spot under a large oak tree at the edge of the campus lawn. Mei Ling unpacked a bento box—carefully arranged rice, vegetables, and what looked like sesame chicken.
“My mom makes these,” she explained. “She’s very ... particular about food.”
Mioki bit into her pizza. “It’s really pretty. The way it’s arranged, I mean.”
“Thanks.” Mei Ling picked up her chopsticks with practiced ease. “So ... can I ask you something?”
“Okay.”
“Those boys this morning. At your locker. Do they bother you a lot?”
Mioki’s appetite disappeared. “Sometimes. They think it’s funny that I’m small, no breasts or figure.”
Mei Ling was quiet for a moment, chewing thoughtfully. “At my old school, they called me ‘Baby China Doll.’ Because like you, I’m very small and Asian and I guess I look ... like a middle school girl with no boobs either...”
“That’s awful.”
“It was.” Mei Ling met her eyes. “But it also taught me something. People who need to make fun of how you look are usually pretty insecure themselves. They’re not actually seeing you—they’re just trying to feel bigger.”
Mioki had never thought about it that way. “Does it still hurt? Even if you know that?”
“Yeah,” Mei Ling admitted. “But less. And it helps to have friends who get it.”
The word “friends” hung in the air between them, fragile and hopeful.
“I don’t really have friends here,” Mioki said quietly. “I mean, people are nice, but I’m not good at ... at talking to people. At deciding things. I kind of freeze up.”
“I noticed that. In the cafeteria line.”
Mioki’s cheeks burned with shame. “I’m sorry, I know it’s weird—”
“It’s not weird,” Mei Ling interrupted. “My older sister has anxiety. Really bad. She sees a therapist for it. Sometimes she can’t decide things either, and our family has learned to just help her without making a big deal about it.” She paused. “Is that what it is? Anxiety?”
“Something like that.” Mioki didn’t want to explain the whole truth—the abuse, the trauma, the way her father Tenaka had made decisions so dangerous that now her brain just shut down when faced with choices.
Mei Ling seemed to sense she shouldn’t push. “Well, if you ever need someone to help you decide between pizza and burgers, I’m your girl. I’m very decisive about lunch.”
Mioki laughed—actually laughed—and it felt like sunshine breaking through clouds.
“Mioki,” Mei suddenly blurted out looking at Mioki with tentative eyes “I really hope to find someone to take care of me. I get scared a lot, but put on this bubbly act to hide my fears.”
Mioki filed that thought away...
They spent the rest of lunch talking about classes, teachers, the weird smell in the science lab, anything but the painful stuff. Mei Ling told her about moving from Seattle because her father got a job transfer. Mioki told her about living on an estate with her brother and sisters and mother, leaving out the parts that were too complicated to explain.
When the bell rang, they walked back inside together.
Across the cafeteria, Kioko sat with two girls from her AP Literature class—not friends exactly, but study partners who tolerated her quiet presence. She was picking at her salad, only half-listening to their conversation about the weekend’s football game, when movement near the oak tree caught her eye.
Mioki, her baby sister, sitting under the tree with the tiny Chinese girl Kenzo is interested in. They were talking, actually talking, and Mioki was ... smiling. Laughing even.
Kioko felt something warm bloom in her chest.
“Cupcake has found a friend,” she murmured to herself.
One of the girls at her table looked over. “What?”
“Nothing. Just my little sister.” Kioko nodded toward the oak tree. “That’s her, the one in the blue hoodie.”
The girl squinted. “Oh, the tiny one? She’s a freshman, right?”
“Yeah. Mioki.” Kioko felt protective instincts flare. “She’s smarter than half the seniors, but she’s shy.”
“She looks like she’s in middle school.”
“She gets that a lot.” Kioko’s voice had an edge now. “People shouldn’t judge.”
The girl held up her hands. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Kioko turned her attention back to her sister. The other girl—Asian, probably Chinese based on her features, just as petite as Mioki—was animated, using her hands as she talked. And Mioki was responding, not just nodding but actually engaging.
When was the last time Kioko had seen her baby sister look that relaxed at school?
Kenzo would be happy. Hell, they’d all be happy. Mioki making a friend was huge—not just because she needed friends, but because it meant she was starting to trust people outside the family. Starting to believe the world could be safe.
The bell rang, breaking Kioko’s observation. She watched Mioki and her new friend stand, collect their trash, and walk toward the building together. Mioki’s posture was different—less hunched, less protective. More open.
Good for you, Cupcake, Kioko thought as she gathered her own things. Good for you.
“What do you have fifth period?” Mei Ling asked as they walked.
“Art.”
“Lucky. I have PE.” Mei Ling made a face. “I’m terrible at sports. I’m going to be picked last for everything.”
“At least you’ll get picked,” Mioki said. “I’m so small, sometimes they forget I’m there and I don’t get picked at all.”
They laughed together, the kind of laughter that comes from shared pain transformed into shared understanding.
At the split in the hallway where they had to go separate directions, Mei Ling touched Mioki’s arm lightly. “Hey, do you want to exchange numbers? Maybe we could text tonight. Or study together sometime.”
Mioki’s heart leaped. “Really?”
“Really. I mean, if you want to.”
“I do. I really do.”
They exchanged phones and entered each other’s numbers. Mei Ling’s contact photo was a picture of her smiling in front of cherry blossoms. Mioki didn’t have a good photo of herself, so she just left it as her name.
“Text me later,” Mei Ling said. “Even if it’s just to say hi.”
“Okay. I will.”
Mioki walked to art class feeling lighter than she had in months. Maybe years. She had a friend. An actual friend who understood what it was like to be small and teased and overlooked, who didn’t think she was weird for freezing up, who just ... helped.
Art class passed in a blur of watercolors and Mr. Harrison’s gentle guidance. Mioki painted a tree—just a simple tree—but today it looked alive on the paper instead of sad and wilted like her usual attempts.
The final bell rang at three-fifteen, and Mioki found Mei Ling waiting by her locker.
“I thought maybe we could walk out together,” Mei Ling said. “My mom’s picking me up.”
“My brother picks me up,” Mioki said. “He should be in the parking lot by now.”
They walked out together, and Mioki spotted Kenzo’s SUV immediately. He was leaning against the driver’s door, checking his phone. When he looked up and saw her—saw her with someone—his whole face brightened.
“Kenzo!” Mioki called, and pulled Mei Ling toward the car. “This is Mei Ling. She’s new. We have three classes together.”
Kenzo straightened up, giving Mei Ling his warmest smile. “Nice to meet you, Mei Ling. I’m Kenzo, Mioki’s brother.”
“Nice to meet you too.” Mei Ling bowed slightly, a gesture that seemed automatic. “Mioki helped me on my first day. Everyone here is very nice.”
“That’s great to hear.” Kenzo looked at Mioki with barely concealed pride. “You ready to go, Mio-chan?”
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