Chapter 2

My whole performance lasted less than ten minutes and I was feeling very uncomfortable and even foolish as the hostess took her crop back. I started to leave the stage, but my boss stood up and suggested in a loud, humorous voice that perhaps the girl should whip me instead. It was hard for me to follow all of his Japanese, but I understood his intentions and so did everyone else. All around me Japanese salarymen laughed and clapped their hands, nodding excitedly to one another.

The hostess looked at me with some contempt and it seemed obvious to me that she was a very strong-willed person, a Dominatrix by temperament if not only by choice. I thought her exceedingly beautiful, as many Japanese bargirls and hostesses must be, and although I was slightly taller, the woman made me feel small by comparison and this was new for me. I'd grown very yielding to my superiors at work, but with strangers and especially the Japanese women I met away from the office, I was normally confident and perhaps arrogant with my background and education. Meek personalities don't graduate Harvard Business School after all, but I wilted beneath her dark presence and the Dominatrix literally grabbed my jaw in her gloved fingers, turning my face so that she could stare into my wide blue eyes.

"Do you wish to be punished?" she demanded and I tried to look at my boss before I answered, but she held my head tight, pinching my cheeks with her thumb and fingers painfully.

I could hear him, even if I couldn't see him, telling the hostess that it was alright because I worked for him. I would do what I was told, he said, and there was more laughter. I really didn't want this to happen and I felt a knot of fear cramping in my stomach. The Japanese woman holding me was strikingly beautiful, as I mentioned, and despite her attitude and stern countenance, her lustrous brown eyes seemed warm, almost comforting somehow, and perhaps that was why I agreed to it. I thought she would ensure that I wouldn't be hurt. I wasn't a professional BDSM model or whatever they call those people. I was an American, a junior executive, and innocent of such things as this. She couldn't possibly hurt me, I thought.

Another girl, attractive and definitely young enough to still be in her teens, entered the stage dressed in a small, red bikini which seemed oddly out of place at that moment. She released the girl I was supposed to have whipped and then the two of them helped me undress while the hostess watched. I looked around, taking a deep, self-conscious breath because of the three dozen or so men in that place. I only knew three of them, and really only one - the company vice-president that I worked for. I was soon completely naked in a roomful of strangers and I could hear them talking about me, generally praising my body, but occasionally the odd Anglophobe would call me a cow or a fat pig. I tried to ignore everything as I was fitted with a stiff leather collar and then leather cuffs around my wrists, fastened with silver buckles.

I had thought they might bind me the way the girl had been, just handcuffed to the rings in the ceiling, but instead my arms were brought behind my back, bent at the elbows so my arms pressed painfully upward against my spine. It hurt a lot as my shoulders were stretched and my arms twisted so that my joints screamed with sharp protest. I didn't know a person's arms could even bend that way and I was trembling and fighting for each ragged breath I took. They fastened my wrists to a large ring on the back of the collar. I had to arch my back just to ease pressure on my shoulders and this pushed my breasts out further, which seemed exactly what my captors desired.

My legs were spread slightly wider than my hips and my ankles were cuffed and then chained to small rings built into the floor of the stage. They were hinged so that they could lay flat in in D-shaped recesses when not in use and I hadn't noticed them before. The girl in the bikini fitted my mouth with a ball gag, which I didn't like at all, and I shook my head, saying that no, I didn't want to be gagged. I was afraid that if I was hurt or something I wouldn't be able to make them stop, or even yell for help. I had no idea what they intended to do with me. This was a totally new experience and I quickly realized that I'd gotten into something over my head right from the beginning. The girls paid little attention to my refusals, and turning my head this way and that did me little good as they proceeded to gag me with expert efficiency.

The gag consisted of a rubber ball, a red one attached to a thin, leather harness of some sort. It wasn't hard, but firm and surprisingly soft, and very large as well. The device was quickly pressed behind my teeth, depressing my tongue so that my mouth seemed filled completely with it. My protests were immediately muted and muffled and I could breathe only through my nose as the gag was tightened and buckled behind my head. Being bound and gagged like I was filled me with a strange sense of claustrophobia, although I was standing in the center of the wide open stage.

I felt my heart pounding with excitement and fear, and I realized with some shock that part of me actually enjoyed this new experience. My senses seemed to become heightened with my fear and excitement. Everything was interesting to me and I was curious as to why and how I found myself becoming aroused. This seemed a forbidden thing, something darkly romantic, if you can imagine it, and that vague impression only fed my confusion. I didn't understand what I was feeling. If someone had asked me before that evening what I thought about being a BDSM submissive, I'd have said no way. I'd never do it. But at that moment I felt the butterflies in my tummy and not because I wanted them to stop.

Finally a chain was lowered from the ceiling and it too connected to the ring at the back of my collar. It was pulled taut, just enough to give me the sensation of pressure, but not enough to lift me off my feet or anything. I stood there, bound helplessly, gagged and uncertain of what was going to happen. The two girls had spoken not at all while they'd prepared me and they left the stage wordlessly, the one in the bikini giving me a smile and the other a small frown, neither of which offered me any reassurance. The hostess played with me first, which I found both stimulating and humiliating. I'd never had anything to do with another woman in my life, not even the playful exploration so many teenage girls share. I knew I wasn't lesbian or even bisexual, not in the least. But here was this beautiful Japanese woman stroking my breasts, talking to me softly and telling me it was going to be okay, and I couldn't deny that I enjoyed her attentions.

She knew I was excited and I had no choice but to watch her face while the Dominatrix taunted me with her hands. My bonds kept me upright, with my chin lifted and my back arched. My breasts were thrust out and up with my shoulders pulled back like they were, likewise my ass was put on vulgar display by the forced tilt of my hips. I felt like an object presented for the lusty approval of the men who watched us so intently. The woman teased me with her fingers, caressing the tops of my breasts and smiling at the dark arousal of my nipples. They were swollen and stiff and when she flicked them with her gloved fingertips, I couldn't refuse her the muffled moan that issued low in my throat. My body became flushed and damp with sweat, and goose bumps broke out across my skin. My nipples throbbed and burned ice cold and I shivered beneath her gentle hands.

The Dominatrix moved her hands down my body slowly. They were encased to the elbows in skin-tight black leather, buttery soft gloves that felt like nothing else I'd ever encountered before. She moved down my stomach and around my waist, petting and soothing me until she found my sex. I'd grown wet by then and we both knew it. I wanted to close my eyes in shame, but I didn't dare. The woman held me with her gaze and licked her crimson lips as her fingers slid down and across my slit. I jerked at the sensation and trembled as she worked her fingers between my swollen labia. My clit became a fiery point of desire and I rocked my hips in an effort to find her hand with it, but she denied me with a soft laugh.

I blinked rapidly as my eyes became moist. I was panting beneath my gag and growing lightheaded as I tried to get the air I needed through my nose. My heart raced and my lungs seemed to labor under a crushing weight. The woman massaged my vulva, splitting my lips and staring intently into my eyes as she pushed a finger slowly inside me. I felt my pussy spasm and the walls of my sex clasped her digit eagerly, nursing at that small penetration and hungry for more. A second later she began to caress my stiff little clit with her thumb, the sensation making my knees weak and my body tremble with a rush of pleasure. I don't think I'd ever gotten so excited so quickly in my life. I didn't know what was going on, whether it was because of the woman, because I was bound, because of the men watching, or a combination of all those things. I only knew she was going to make me cum in just a few agonizing seconds if she didn't stop playing with my cunt.

My captor must have realized it as well, not that it could have been very difficult to tell. My whole body jerked against my bonds and my skin fairly glowed with pink arousal beneath the bright lights. My eyes were wide and begging for relief, and shining with the desire that I was unable to voice aloud. The woman didn't stop and her laughter was soft and high pitched when she brought me off. Her finger thrust deep inside me, curling against my tender flesh and finding the most sensitive places imaginable. Her palm cupped my sex as she stood close to me, her lips brushing my cheek so that I could smell her perfumed hair and pale skin. I felt her humid breath on my face and her finger wriggled inside me, scratching the desperate itch my excitement had become. My orgasm arrived quick and hard, crashing through me like a tidal wave of pleasure and I was swept away with it for several long minutes.

I could barely stand and the collar tugged insistently at my neck, but I had little mind for that. I was dazed and floating on a cloud of adrenalin and endorphins and all the good feelings my orgasm had delivered. I could feel the woman still fucking me with her hand, telling me how she could feel my pussy nursing on her finger like a baby while I came. She pumped me slowly until I'd recovered enough that I could focus on her beautiful face once more. She brought her fingers to her mouth, the leather glistening with my juices now, and she wanted me to see her lick them clean. The Dominatrix was sharing in my orgasm and telling me that soon enough I would do the same for her, but the time for tenderness was through.

The girl I was supposed to have whipped with the crop had reappeared and she was now given the task of whipping me. She looked like a Japanese angel, perhaps five feet tall with big brown eyes, small firm breasts, and a neatly trimmed V of black pubic hair between her delicate thighs. But she was a demon in disguise, I think, because she used the crop on me without mercy or sympathy. Not on my ass either, which I might have borne better. She whipped my breasts, taking a perverse delight in punishing them until they were covered with angry red welts, top to bottom and side to side. The girl struck me no place else, only on my tits, and the kiss of her crop was both unavoidable and very nearly unbearable.

I will tell you I screamed as long and hard as I could against that gag. I jerked and twisted. I pulled against my bonds until my body was bathed in sweat. I'd never been treated in such a way, not even by the most abusive of the Japanese men I worked with, and so I had nothing to compare this to. There was no reference and so this whipping of my breasts seemed all the more terrible than perhaps it truly was. Much of my suffering, I must confess, was brought upon myself by my own feverish mind. I'd closed my eyes and I was afraid to open them for fear of what I'd see when I saw my tits, but when the girl had finished and I blinked through my tears, I could see that my worst fears were unrealized. My breasts were criss-crossed with long, thin stripes of white across my flushed skin. The welts were raised and my tits throbbed with pain, feeling swollen and burning and heavy as they tugged at the exhausted muscles beneath them. But they were beautiful as well, although my mind tried to deny what I understood emotionally. The girl had painted my tits with pain and though it had been terrible and frightening, now I was learning to accept it.

The girl was breathing hard after exertions which must have been the equal of my own, which seemed a curious reveleation and only hinted at a true and deeper understanding which escaped me. Her own small body had turned pink and damp with sweat while whipping me and she wore a satisfied, petulant smile on her angelic face. She held the crop in her left hand and I watched as she stroked it between her thighs, sliding the short length of it between her thin pussy lips. I suddenly became aware that I'd been crying and this seemed to please her greatly. She told the hostess that my tears made me even prettier and she struck my breasts again, watching my eyes closely as I sobbed. I think she would have continued until I passed out if the hostess hadn't stopped her. I wondered how anyone that lovely could be that cruel. I winced instinctively when the girl brought a hand to my face, but she giggled softly and her touch was gentle as she gathered some of the wetness spilling from my eyes on her fingertips. She brought her hand to her mouth and licked my tears from her fingers with her tiny red tongue.

For the crowd's benefit more than mine, I think, the hostess began playing with my cunt again and I should have been surprised to find that I was soaked down there. I thought I should have been dry, but being whipped like that had pushed me right to the edge and the woman brought me off again with very little effort. She took much pleasure in announcing my condition to her customers, telling the men in a loud voice how wet my cunt had become and how easily I accepted three and then four of her fingers inside my slutty hole. If she meant to embarrass me further, it wasn't possible. I was beyond humiliation, lost to everyone but the Dominatrix and her assistants, and my guilt and shame were gifts for her alone.

The men watching, laughing and drinking and making their lewd observations mattered very little to me at that point. I was cumming hard and so soon after having my breasts whipped, as if the experience had been an aphrodisiac to render me truly helpless with desire. My orgasm tore through me, mixing with the pain in my tits, and it semed as if the door to heaven had been cracked open. It was an experience that I couldn't understand then, but the hostess knew. She understood completely, I think, and almost certainly the girl who had whipped me as well. They were like no one else.

At some point during my orgasm, the girl in the bikini had returned, bringing with her some long, thin leather cords. I'd had some expectation of being released after being whipped by that lovely fallen angel, but I was mistaken and through the pleasant haze of my orgasm I realized that the hostess had no intention of letting me go so quickly. After all the effort and extravagance of binding me so thoroughly, I would be required to put on a good show for her well-paying customers and having my breasts whipped hadn't been nearly enough to appease them.

Instead of loosing my bonds, the Dominatrix had my tits bound, one at a time with the leather cords. The girl wound the leather tightly around the base of my left breast, over and over, ensuring the cord was painfully tight so that the fatty tissue seem to balloon outward as the flesh was narrowed beneath it. She did this to my right breast as well, and after she'd finished my tits looked obscene and strangely misshapen. They were already red and marred by the welts which had not yet begun to fade, and soon my tits began to turn darker as the blood inside them was trapped by the leather cords.

I groaned uselessly against the gag in my mouth when the girl stepped back so the Dominatrix and the audience could admire her handiwork. The hostess called out loudly in Japanese, using words I was unfamiliar with, and a moment later the bikini clad girl returned with a small bag of metal clips, like clothespins, only stronger with heavier springs and sharp teeth like large alligator clips. The hostess worked these onto my nipples first, which were hard and distended, dark with blood and swollen from the abuse they'd already suffered. It felt as an incredible, exquisite pain and my body jerked as my nipples were caught beneath those sharp teeth, the hostess positioning the open jaws over each nipple and then simply letting go, so that they snapped into place as if biting me.

A half dozen more were placed on each of my breasts, the clips biting into my flesh and adding to the nearly overwhelming pain I felt. But beneath it all I was shivering with excitement. I truly enjoyed this. Some terrible, perverse part of me that I'd never known existed was getting off on being abused in this way, being degraded and humiliated in front of so many total strangers. I felt my pussy aching to be filled and I found the sudden desire to have the woman clip some of those pins to my labia, even my sensitive clitoris, to be an almost intoxicating thought. But this was to be strictly breast torture, I understood, because they ignored every other part of me except when the hostess wished to give me another orgasm with her fingers.

With my breasts whipped, bound, and finally clamped as they were, it came time for the climax of our little scene The hostess disappeared from my sight for a moment and this gave me time to fix my attention on the crowd around me, whom I could just make out through the bright lights that shone down upon the platform. It felt wonderfully strange to be helpless and in such a torturous mix of pleasure and pain, while only a few feet away from me men joked and laughed and played with the bar girls who kept them company. I saw my boss smiling and pointing as he discussed me with his two associates. He would be well pleased by what was happening, I was sure. This story too would make the rounds of my office and everyone I worked with would know what had happened to me. I felt thoroughly degraded, as if I were so much less than any of the men staring at me. I was barely even human now, I thought, but more like an animal to be abused for pleasure than a woman with an expensive education and a high paying job. How could anyone ever respect me after the things I'd been forced to do, I wondered. How could I even respect myself?

All of my thoughts were soon lost however, as I felt the hostess moving behind me. I could hear the men talking, some of them, and I understood from their excited words that I was about to be fucked. The Dominatrix had strapped on a dildo, a very large one judging from the comments I was able to hear, and I twisted my head to the left and right, but was quite unable to see the woman or the cock she now sported. I shook violently and my heart refused to slow as it seemed ready to burst with anticipation. I could hear it beating in my ears, rushing hot blood through my body to feed adrenaline to my excited flesh. I wasn't so much frightened by what was happening as I was desperate for more. My pussy had grown wet and tight with frustrating emptiness. I felt my sex like a fist between my spread thighs, squeezing in on itself and begging to be filled. The idea of that beautiful, dominant woman taking my cunt in front of those men was intoxicating and I felt another orgasm building in the depths of my taut belly.

The hostess wasted little time as she worked the head of her dildo across my slit from behind. She pressed it down so the shaft rode between my labia without entering me and as the woman pressed her hips to my ass, the phallus appeared in front of me, jutting out lewdly between my legs. The woman teased me that way, and the crowd as well, taunting my sex for several minutes before finally drawing her now wet and glistening cock back and pressing it not to my pussy, which was begging to be filled, but rather to my anus. She put her lips to my ear, whispering to me in Japanese that her name was Mistress Atsumi and she intended to make me her slave. I shuddered and the gag made insensible my reply, but words were unnecessary in any event. Mistress Atsumi knew what I needed.

The Dominatrix pushed her dildo inside me with a forceful, steady pressure, spreading the round cheeks of my ass apart with her thumbs so she could see my tight sphincter yielding beneath her insistence. I'd been fucked there before, but never like this. None of the men who'd had my asshole had been as thick as that toy now felt. I might have screamed if I hadn't been so completely gagged. The delicate ring of my anus was being forced open around the smooth head of her phallus, lubricated with the juices from my cunt, and it was another pleasure-pain cocktail for my lust fogged mind to greedily swallow. With an odd popping sensation, the woman's cock forced itself into my rectum and then she began to fuck me in earnest. Mistress Atsumi held my hips and thrust sharply, with quick, short strokes that took my tender asshole inch by inch until eventually she had all of her phallus buried within the tight confines of my bowels.

She let me rest then and perhaps the woman was catching her own breath as well. I was impaled on her cock and how large it was I couldn't guess, but it seemed huge to me as my body stretched around it. Mistress Atsumi grabbed my tits then, pressing herself against my back and reaching around me. She began digging her gloved fingers into my tender flesh, by now horribly swollen and purplish from their bonds. Her efforts knocked several of the clips off and that was another splinter of painful joy. She handled my tits roughly, working them up and down, squeezing and pulling them, pressing her palms against my burning nipples as she fucked my ass with violent abandon. I could feel her hot breath against my neck and her leather encased body rubbing against mine. It was a glorious fuck filled with pain and pleasure and for the first time in my life I came without feeling any direct stimulation of my clit or vagina. I shook and whimpered like a little girl as Mistress Atsumi bent me completely to her will. I was powerless and it thrilled me to my core.

After our show had ended, the naked young woman who had whipped me and the other one, the teenage girl in the bikini, unbound me and brought me backstage. The sensation of fresh blood filling my breasts filled my eyes with tears and that seemed a pain as bad or worse than any other. They cleaned me up carefully, washing my body and applying a cream to my breasts which looked terrible from the beating they'd taken. The girls' hands were gentle and the water was very hot, soothing and relaxing, and I enjoyed it a great deal.

The girl who'd used the crop on my tits climbed into the water with me, sitting very close, and I watched her lovely face as her hands stroked my flesh. She comforted me in all ways and the pain I felt melted slowly away beneath her tender ministrations. She told me her name was Fumiko and she asked me if she'd hurt me, meaning something more than physically, but I was unsure of how I felt just then. I told her that she had and the smaller woman frowned at that, massaging my nipples with her thumbs while she squeezed my tits carefully. I smiled and dipped my head so that I could catch her dark eyes with mine and I told her that despite the pain, I'd enjoyed it very much. I just didn't understand how or why and she laughed at that.

"You'll learn, I think," Fumiko said. "You were very good for me."

After my bath I was ready to go back to the table and find my boss and our two guests. I knew they'd be pleased and probably ready to leave. They'd bring me to a rest house, or perhaps to a love motel, and I'd spend the rest of the night letting the two businessmen have their way with my body, all for the good of the company. I wasn't looking forward to it. I was worn out, as you can imagine, and I would much rather go home to my small apartment and spend my time trying to understand what had happened to me and what it all meant. But I couldn't find my clothes. I stood there in a towel, looking around and unsure of what I was doing. None of the other women were in the small bath just then and I opened the door to peek out. There was a narrow little hall with the bar directly ahead, the stage to the left, and offices to the right. I was concerned because I thought my boss would probably be angry with me if I took too long. I frowned at the towel and decided it covered me well enough that I could make my way to the bar and ask someone where my things had gone, but about the time I'd made up my mind, Atsumi walked off the stage and saw me.

The woman smiled patiently and stepped close to me as I stood there, damp and nervous, and my heart leapt at being confronted by the woman who had fucked me so publicly. "What do you think you're doing?" she asked me with a voice that seemed almost playful.

"I'm looking for my clothes, Mistress," I said somewhat hesitantly, but I'd decided that was the most correct form of addressing her. Somehow 'Atsumi-san' didn't seem like something I could easily say. "My boss is waiting for me and I do not wish to displease him," I continued in my somewhat formal Japanese. I kept my eyes lowered and my hands were clutching at the knotted towel between my breasts.

"I gave them to your boss for safekeeping," the woman smiled at me. "But now he's already left. Didn't he leave your clothes with Fumiko?"

"What? No, I don't think so," I said, looking around and feeling a little helpless. I didn't see the VP or his companions anywhere. "He can't leave! He had my purse also."

"Oh my! Well, this is a problem, isn't it?" The beautiful woman shook her head, but her lips curled in a mischievous smile and I understood that she was enjoying my discomfort.

"What am I going to do? My money, my keys, everything was in there!" I felt very insecure right about then, as you may imagine. Yokohama was a long ways from my apartment in Shinjuku and even if I somehow managed to get home, I couldn't get through the door.

"Well, I suppose you could come home with me if you like. In the morning you can call him at work. I'm sure it's just a mistake."

"But I have to be to work in the morning!" I was almost in tears, feeling suddenly overwelmed by the entire experience. Not merely finding myself naked and helpless, but I hadn't yet come to reason with what I'd suffered previously. The heart and mind can only take so much and I was breaking inside.

"Oh, shush now!" she actually laughed. "This isn't so terrible. He's your boss. He'll understand if you're a little late, I think." Mistress Atsumi was making her proposal sound almost reasonable and I really did have no alternative. I couldn't even afford the train ride home and while I'm sure the woman would have been happy to lend me a little money, she hadn't made that offer and I was too embarrassed to ask.

"Maybe," I nodded slowly. "But I do not wish to be a burden to you."

"It's no burden to be someone's friend," the woman smiled and reached out to touch my cheek. "We'll go out and have some fun tonight, you'll see, and in the morning everything will be fine."

Atsumi had Fumiko find me a dress. It was about two sizes too small, especially for my breasts, which were large by Japanese standards anyway, and now swollen and overly sensitive. The dress was leather, bright yellow with an old fashioned bodice, like a corset that laced closed across my tummy up to my breasts. When I put the dress on however, I was barely able to cover my nipples and the untied laces hung free like tassels from my tits as they were pushed upward in a lewd display of female flesh. The bottom of the dress flared into a stiff leather skirt that barely covered my ass, and at my hips the dress stretched very little, hugging my body tightly in a warm, buttery sheath. The outfit actually felt wonderful around my waist and stomach, but I felt quite dismayed by my appearance. My body was only barely contained, with my tits threatening to spill out of the bodice and my ass and even my sex hidden only so long as I stood straight and still. Walking would be a definite challenge to my modesty and sitting down was out of the question! I looked like a very cheap prostitute, I thought, but Atsumi clapped with happy approval when she saw me.

Fumiko was smiling as well, although I couldn't tell which she enjoyed more, my trepidation or Atsumi's pleasure. The girl giggled as she gave me a black leather thong that I held up for a moment, blinking at it. I'd owned and worn many thongs, but I'd hoped for something a little more concealing to wear beneath that dress. Nevertheless, I put the panties on, pulling taut the thin leather between my butt cheeks while Atsumi watched patiently. I struggled to get into a pair of patent leather pumps, open toed with four inch heels that fit me alright, but they obviously weren't designed for comfort. They accentuated the effects of my new dress, forcing me to tilt my hips and arch my back as I had to stand almost tip-toe while Fumiko knelt and fastened the thin straps around my ankles for me.