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 in a mirror like this, full-length and 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 only moderate in size—at seventeen I supposed they would not grow any bigger. 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 enhancement studio 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 had met Bob only recently, and I owed it to Natsuko, my friend from school. She was eighteen now and had started on the career she had always wanted, working as a nude model and acting in sex videos. I was very happy for her. Marucho, the studio where she was employed, had held a party to launch a new video in which she had a small part, and she had arranged for me to be invited. It was exciting to visit a real movie studio and meet the people who worked there, but at first I had felt shy and left out, surrounded by so many beautiful and self-confident girls. But then she had sent Bob Williams over to talk to me, and he had been really nice. He had called me the next day, but so far we had been on just one date: I had let him play with my breasts, of course (he had loved my rings!) and I had stroked his cock through his trousers, but nothing more. So I was a bit startled when he suggested a weekend together at this very luxurious resort. I knew of course what he was inviting me for: sex, sex and more sex, in private and in public. That would be lovely but I was worried that such an expensive date would mean accepting too many obligations for the future.

I needed Natsuko’s advice, and we arranged to meet at a coffee-shop in the Dōgenzaka, the busy street in Shibuya a few minutes from her studio. She had only a short break between scenes in her new movie, and came bustling in still wearing studio make-up and looking glamorous in miniskirt and high-heels. As soon as we had sat down at a little round table and ordered our coffee I asked her about Bob.

“He’s American,” she said.

Well, I knew that of course.

“He speaks very good Japanese,” I said, hoping to learn more about what he was doing in Tokyo.

“He should do. He’s been here for years. At least twenty, I think.”

“Yes, but most gaijin never trouble to learn it properly.”

“He needs it for his work. He’s a journalist.” I urged her to tell me more. “He covers the Tokyo sex scene for several American magazines. You know the sort of thing.”

I didn’t, but there wasn’t time to ask—though that did explain why he had been present at the launch party for a new adult video.

“Is there a lot of money in that?” I asked. “He has invited me on a very expensive date—I’d love to go but I’m not sure …”

“He does well, I think. He’s the best. Mr Otani says so, and he should know.”

“Mr Otani?”

“The Chairman of the company that owns our studio. He’s half American and married to Megumi Kato. We girls all admire her so much! She started at eighteen as an actress in Marucho’s adult videos—just like me—and now she’s running the company. You met them both at the party.”

“Oh, er, yes …” I said, vaguely remembering a tall, handsome man—he had hardly looked American at all—and his beautiful and charming wife.

“They remember you. They are keen to help you,” Natsuko added, looking at me a bit severely over her coffee cup. She had been urging me to make the move from casual amateur performances in striptease theatres and hostess clubs to real professional work like hers—just as soon as I was eighteen and could legally earn my living in the sex industry. But although the idea excited me I was hesitating over committing myself.

“What should I do about Mr Williams’s invitation?”

“Say yes, Takako. He’s a great lover and can teach you things. You’ll have a great time. And yes, if it’s bothering you, he can easily afford it.”

“What things can he teach me?”

“You’ll find out. And you’ll enjoy it.”

***

So here I was staying with Bob in our own cabin in a luxurious resort on an island three hours’ flight from home, wondering what to wear for our first dinner together—if anything. I read the little notice again. It still gave me a lovely shivery feeling to know I was permitted to wear as little as I liked, but it didn’t help me decide. 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 pubic 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 I would enjoy showing myself off, too, even if I pretended to be shy the way I did when starting a routine at a strip-club! 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.

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 of pleasing 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 by wearing bridal white. 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. It was always an extra pleasure to feel I could not escape from my lover’s attentions even if I wanted to, and I hoped Bob would enjoy that fantasy too.

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, even if you are still—for the moment—wearing panties. I had learnt that from my spontaneous appearances at strip-clubs, sitting eagerly near the front waiting for the MC to spot me and announce that it was “amateur night”.

“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?”

I looked at him wide-eyed, hoping that apparent innocence and inexperience would stimulate him.

“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 he could play with my breasts and stroke my pussy through the scrap of satin just covering 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, looking up at him still wide-eyed and frightened.

“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 the 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 into uncontainable lust, 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 lacey 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, just giving me, you know, a sort of light tickling feeling. When I was used to that and asked for more, he did it a little harder, and harder still, and showed me how being caned lovingly 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 young girls being fucked sell at high prices. And they’re much better.”

“Better?”

“Better than videos of busty AV stars in their twenties dressed up in school uniforms, I mean.”

I giggled.

“Do they do that?”

“Of course they do. But girls like you … of course you aren’t supposed to be paid for it till you’re eighteen. You know that, don’t you?”

“It was only a little pocket-money,” I said defensively. “Just a few thousand yen … and I enjoyed it so much I’d have done it for nothing.”

“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 at this very moment was 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 little clitoris, 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. As I looked more closely and ran my fingers lightly over the supple, shiny leather where it covered arse and cunt 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 other’s 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 soft 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. I remembered that many couples came here on honeymoon: the whip was a lovely gift for a new bride.

“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 beautiful 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.