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Whips, Clamps and Party Clothes - Part 2

I take Natsuko shopping and prepare her for the evening's party
Asakusa is an area of traditional Tokyo dominated by a huge Buddhist temple dedicated to Kannon, the Buddhist deity of mercy. The avenue leading from the Thunder Gate on the main road to the plaza before the temple is lined with traditional shops. Eighteenth-century prints by Hiroshige show that it has changed very little—though in his time I doubt if there were shops selling sexy clothes for tarts and bargirls—or for girls who like to dress as if they are. Or if the shops were there, they weren’t selling stiletto high-heels and micro-dresses. Anyone who doubts if there is any long-term progress in human affairs should visit these shops. Of course Japanese girls were always sexy and proud of it; but their clothes give them much more help now than they ever used to do in flaunting their sexuality for everyone’s enjoyment.

The sophisticated taste of the men waiting to meet Natsuko tonight would certainly run to black-and-silver. Her few party shoes were in bright, flashy colours. My fault, of course; I like my girls to look tarty. But the big shoe-shop half-way down the avenue on the left would certainly have the right thing. One of the assistants in the back room where specialist items were sold knew exactly what was wanted. She recognised me, of course: I had been to her shop with other girls before Natsuko. She looked at Natsuko with new respect when she realised the sort of event she was invited to, and quickly produced a pair of shiny silver shoes with four-inch heels and long thin laces to tie in pretty bows round her ankles. They also had a low “neck” revealing the cleavage between her toes.

“That’s very important,” she said to Natsuko as she knelt to help her try them on. “The sort of sophisticated men you will meet this evening care about toes. I’ve known men who are as aroused by glimpses of a girl’s toes as they are by the shape of her breasts or the nape of her neck. If you’re wearing shoes like these—I don’t mean sandals, of course—you should always buy the ones with a low neck which shows the cleavage and holds it tight. Just like the kind of bra which shows your breasts and models them.”

Despite herself, Natsuko was impressed by this sex lore.

“I usually wear sandals for parties,” she said.

“Yes, sandals are very nice and lots of men love them,” the woman said. “But showing off your toes like that from the start can be a bit blatant. Like wearing a topless dress, you see.”

Natsuko began striding about the little room, admiring her feet in the floor-level mirrors.

“I think a pair just a little bit smaller would be nice, don’t you?” murmured the woman confidingly. “Nicer for them to look at, and a nicer feeling for you.”

When she had tied Natsuko into a smaller size, and while she was trying them out with little squeals of pleasure, the woman spoke privately to me.

“How old is your friend?”

“Sixteen,” I said.

“That’s nice, for you and for her. But she’s very young to be invited to the sort of party I think you’re going to tonight,” she said. “Is she ready for that sort of experience?”

For a moment I thought she was disapproving of a gaijin like me debauching a young girl like Natsuko; but then I realised her tone was positive, even admiring.

“Oh yes,” I said. “She’ll be fine. She’s already almost more than I can manage on my own.”

She smiled in a maternal way.

“What does she want to do when she leaves school?”

“She’s desperate to go into the sex industry. You know: bars, clubs, soaplands, fuck videos. She feels ready to start now, and keeps begging me to arrange it for her.”

“That’s not easy when she’s only sixteen.”

“No.”

“But there are ways round that … I may be able to help. I know people … they’re always asking me to look out for new talent. And, you see, lots of pretty young girls come here to buy shoes, and I can tell from the way they wear them if they’re ready. To interest my friends, I mean.”

“That’s very kind of you. She’d be so grateful … but I don’t want her to get into trouble. Or you,” I added hastily.

“There’d be no trouble. Of course if she were always on public display, in the sort of places you mentioned, she’d run out of luck one day. A rival would report her to the police, or there’d be a random check … but the sort of people I know are very discreet. They’d try her out, test her, then offer her to rich people who want pretty, talented young girls to look after important guests with … you know, rather special tastes.”

“That sounds very interesting. I know Natsuko would love that. She’s talented all right, and she has rather special tastes herself.”

“Good. When you think she’s ready, let me know and I’ll make enquiries. I’m here most evenings.”

“Of course. I’ll be in touch. But I won’t tell her about it yet. She still has a few things to learn. Not many … I’ve taught her how to strip, how to serve drinks nicely topless or completely nude, what a bath-girl does, that sort of thing. But tonight’s party will be rather a test.”

Natsuko came up, bubbling with enthusiasm about her new shoes. I persuaded her to change back into her platforms and keep the new pair fresh for the party. I paid, and the helpful motherly woman bowed us out of the shop.

“What do we do next?” asked Natsuko, hanging onto my arm and skipping along beside me in a way that must have shown off at least half her pretty naked bottom with each skip.

“Somewhere down here there used to be … yes, along here and I think, yes … to the right.”

It was a very small shop in a dingy alley off the main arcade. But it was still there, and it still sold some highly specialised products.

“Welcome!” called out the elderly lady who had run the establishment since long before I first visited it. “What can I offer you? I have some very nice items, just arrived from China. All guaranteed to please your young lady.”

“Now, listen, Natsuko,” I said to her firmly. “If I know you, you’ll want to buy the whole shop. I’ll get them to give you a card, so you can come back here with your schoolfriends and spend your pocket-money whenever you like. But today you are getting just one thing, and I’ll decide what it is.”

Natsuko was beginning to understand what sort of equipment was displayed in the cases, or offered at reduced prices in the dump bins, and was too excited to reply. I turned to the proprietor.

“Good morning,” I said. “The young lady would like a pair of nipple-clamps. Old-fashioned ones: the sort of flat metal discs that screw to the breast and don’t come off. Something very special—if you understand what I mean …”

Natsuko had torn herself away from displays of arse-plugs, strap-ons and body jewellery, and was nodding excitedly to show that those were exactly the sort of nipple-clamps she wanted. The old lady smiled kindly and began to hunt in drawers behind the counter. She seemed to understand that by “very special” I meant something that would satisfy Natsuko’s depraved taste for pain as a means of sexual stimulation.

“We don’t usually put them on display, because the fashion now is more for the pincer type. You know, the clothes-peg model or the butterfly.”

“The … er … butterfly?” Natsuko asked in a breathless whisper.

“Have you not tried those yet, dear?” said the old lady kindly. “They are very nice. They are like pincers but with special mechanisms and little chains. The more you pull on the chains—or your lover does—the tighter the jaws bite. And of course there’s no way of loosening them again. Delightful!”

“Ohhh!” said Natsuko, imagining it.

“But I think the flat disc type is much more elegant, and much more secure of course,” the old lady went on. “And discreet, too. Now, let me see … how about these?”

She produced a pair of small engraved discs and placed them on a velvet pad such as jewellers use to show off the beauty of their products. She turned one over and showed Natsuko how her nipple would fit neatly into a hole at the back, while twisting the outer face of the clamp would tighten the mechanism inexorably …

“And of course the more you tighten it, the greater the effect,” she said conspiratorially, enjoying Natsuko’s breathless excitement. “Do try them on if you like.”

“Oh, may I?” said Natsuko; and without waiting for an answer pulled up her cropped top and fixed the clamps to her hard, erect nipples. As she fumbled with the mechanism, the old lady reached over and gradually increased the pressure.

“There! How does that feel?”

“Ohhh! Lovely … lovely! But—haven’t you anything even stronger?”

The old lady gave her another kindly smile.

“I can see you really have a taste for this kind of pleasure.”

“Oh, yes—I have! He—” Natsuko looked shyly at me from under her lashes “—he taught me.”

“Did he now?” the old lady said, bringing me into the discussion. “You must be very happy together. Now … I do have something rather special. I must admit it’s a bit expensive, and I was keeping it to sell to someone who would really appreciate it. I like to think that the spirit of a craftsman of the old days is reaching out to a young girl of today, and she is keeping his artistry and skill alive by enjoying the pleasure he created for her. But I expect you’ll think I’m just a sentimental old woman who should be in her grave …”

She hunted in a drawer and produced another pair. They were obviously old and were beautifully engraved, with a fire-breathing dragon curled round the outer surface of each.

“They’re Chinese,” said the old lady. “From the old days—not the mass-produced stuff we get nowadays. Oh, I agree the modern designs look very pretty on a girl, and are efficient enough in enhancing her pleasure. But these are special. They are part of a set designed on the orders of an Emperor for the training of new slaves and concubines. When a new girl was first brought before him she was often too inexperienced to enjoy the more refined sexual pleasures. I expect it took you a little while, didn’t it dear?”

Natsuko nodded, longing to hear more.

“Well, she would be taken to the dungeons, gently stripped naked and chained, and made to wear these. Of course she was tortured in other clever ways too. The Emperor would sit behind a secret screen and watch, and listen to her screams.”

Natsuko was speechless with desire. The old lady removed the earlier clamps for her and fitted her nipples carefully into the new pair. She gradually increased the pressure as she went on talking. Natsuko was whimpering with joy and holding herself upright by gripping the front of the counter.

“It is said that experts could make the pain mount to a pinnacle over three days and nights of non-stop torture, and when that had been attained the girl would stop begging for mercy and start begging for more. Her mind could no longer bear the torment and in self-defence had at last transformed it into even greater pleasure, you see. That’s how it works, if the pain is applied skilfully. When the head torturer sensed that was about to happen, he would run to the Emperor, prostrate himself, and say, ‘Sire, the sun will shortly rise.’ Then the Emperor would go quickly to the dungeon and sit again behind his little screen, and watch the girl as she experienced her apotheosis. He would step out from his hiding-place, show himself to the girl, and honour her by personally bringing her to orgasm, whipping her perhaps with a beautiful set of lashes with exquisite jewelled points. Then she would always know what she owed him: the key to her own private paradise.”

“And then?” said Natsuko, gasping with exquisite pain-pleasure as the old woman screwed the clamps to their highest setting.

“Then she would have three more days and nights of torture, this time designed to enhance her sensuality and introduce her fully to the new world of pleasure she had discovered within herself. She would find out which clever instruments of torture gave her the most pleasure, and would be encouraged to beg for them. After that, she would have a day and night of rest, with no sexual activity allowed; and then she would be beautifully decorated and admitted to the Emperor’s private quarters. There she would beg to be tortured again. Sometimes the Emperor would once more do her the honour of torturing her himself, or if he was tired he would summon the experts to do it for him while he watched and was pleasured by other lesser concubines. But from then on she was always required when in his presence to wear her discs at the highest setting.”

“And I suppose,” I put in, “if she was naughty and needed to be punished, the punishment was to have her clamps removed.”

“How well you understand, Williams-san. Your girls must be very happy.” She turned back to Natsuko. “Do they hurt, dear?”

“Yes … oh yes! … So much …”

“I’ll buy them,” I said. “But take them off her for now.”

“I must find you a case for them,” said the old lady. “Something so beautiful needs to be looked after well. Do you want to go on wearing them?”

“Yes!” said Natsuko.

“No,” I said. “I promise you can wear them this evening. But till then I want you just to think about them and build up an appetite.”

The old lady, obeying a man rather than a girl as was natural, gently unscrewed the clamps and stowed them away in a little velvet-covered case. I handed over a credit card. The price would knock a big hole in the month’s budget. But it was worth it just to see Natsuko’s delight in her new toys—not to mention the pleasure it would give me and the other men at tonight’s party to see her writhing happily in delicious agony. And then there would be all those hours together playing charming games of Emperor and slave, as I slowly gave way to her entreaties and gradually increased the pretty clamps’ bite.

Natsuko sadly pulled her top down over her now unadorned breasts. I signed the credit card slip and slid the little parcel into my jacket pocket.

“Your young lady has a real gift for masochism,” said the old lady quietly. “Has she ever thought of turning professional?”

“She thinks of nothing else.”

“That’s good. It would be such a waste not to encourage her talent. I have connections … gentlemen looking for girls who will submit to anything they are asked at very private events … they pay well, and of course you as her protector …”

“You know, you’re the second person who’s suggested that to me this morning. But she’s only sixteen.”

“Oh, that’s not a problem. Some of the girls I recommend to my clients are quite young. The important thing is that they should have discovered a love for pain, as your young lady has, and be willing to submit to really expert torturers before an appreciative audience. Contact me on this number. And meanwhile look after her well. She is a valuable property.”

“Thank you. And perhaps you can tell me: is there a dress-shop near here? A shop that sells, you know, special party dresses?”

“You mean, corsets? Bondage outfits?”

“That sort of thing.”

“Just three doors up on the right. Please tell them I sent you.”

“What are we going to buy next?” asked Natsuko, skipping happily beside me as we walked the few metres down the narrow street. She stopped suddenly, lifted one foot onto the metal rail along the path and pretended to adjust her ankle-strap. She smiled up at me, making sure I was enjoying the pretty sight as her tiny skirt rode almost up to her waist. Then she stood up again and made some pretence of pulling it down to cover her bottom. For the moment she seemed to be reconciled to separation from her new breast-clamps; but I suspected she was just waiting for the right moment to raise the matter again.

“More things for tonight,” I said. “In particular,” I added as we entered the dress-shop, “I want to see you in a corset.”

“A corset, sir?” said the young man in the shop, after greeting us politely, “for this young lady? I think we have just the thing, if you will kindly come this way.”

He did indeed. I asked for shiny black, as Natsuko’s colour for the evening ahead, and he at once produced a selection and laid them out on the counter. Natsuko and I had no trouble agreeing on a style which extended from just below her breasts—giving them a tiny bit of uplift without concealing them—to just above the swell of her arse. Natsuko held the garment against herself in the mirror and asked if she might try it on.

“Of course,” said the assistant. “I wonder … would the young lady care to remove her blouse? That way she can get a better idea of how it looks … and—and feels …”

Natsuko at once pulled off her cropped top, politely described as a blouse, and the young man laced the corset round her bare waist, zig-zagging the strong black laces tightly along the metal hooks at the back. She examined the result critically in the mirror, looking over her shoulder to check that the edges had been pulled closely shut.

“Very nice,” she said firmly, “but not tight enough. I’d like to try a size smaller.”

“That would be very tight,” said the young man cautiously, “but let’s try it if that is what you would like.”

This time her waist was noticeably smaller and her naked breasts jutted proudly forward; but she was still not satisfied.

“The edges at the back don’t quite meet,” she whispered. “Pull them tighter.”

“Let me,” I said as the young man hesitated.

I pulled the laces till they cracked and managed to bring the edges together. Natsuko could hardly breathe but was satisfied with the result.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” said the young man as he packed the corset neatly into a discreet carrier-bag, doing his best to keep his eyes off Natsuko’s breasts—she having flirtatiously “forgotten” to put on her top.

“May I see that dress over there?” she asked, pointing to a dummy standing in one of the rear corners of the shop.

It was a short, slinky minidress in plasticated material, sleeveless and with nothing remarkable about it except for the two holes cut to reveal the breasts fully. Natsuko at once wanted to try it on, asking the young man if he had it in her size and in silver.

“Oh yes, I’m sure,” he said. “We have quite a stock in different sizes and colours. It’s a popular model with our, er, professional young ladies.”

The thought of wearing a dress designed for the sort of girl she longed to be herself clearly appealed to Natsuko. She turned her back on the young man with a show of modesty, and removed her own little skirt before stepping naked into the dress he handed her. I zippered it up for her. It was a perfect skin-tight fit over her nudity; and whatever the style may have done for the charms of “professional young ladies” it most certainly did a lot for hers.

She looked as if someone had spray-painted her body from the neck to just below her bottom with shining silver lacquer, omitting only her firm young breasts. I could hardly keep my hands off them as they peeped out invitingly at me through the holes in her dress. The young man suggested a matching belt, which Natsuko buckled as tightly as she could round her slim waist. It made her, if possible, even more desirable. Obviously she had to have it. Silently I handed over my credit card again. I had given up wondering how I was supposed to eat and drink this month.

“And,” said Natsuko firmly, “I shall wear it home.”

“Oh, Natsuko-chan, you know you can’t.”

“I know nothing of the kind!” she said, squaring up to me.

The young man discreetly withdrew from this argument, but stayed within hearing.

“Listen, and be sensible for once. You may never get home, and nor will I, if the police see you exposing yourself like that in public and if they arrest me for debauching a schoolgirl …”

“Oh, don’t be silly!” She giggled. “You didn’t debauch me. I was thoroughly debauched, as you put it, before we ever met!” She moved closer to me and wriggled her silver-lacquered body delightfully. “Don’t you remember where we met—and what I was wearing?”

“Vividly,” I said. “I shall never forget.”

She came closer still, and put her arms round my neck.

“Remind me. There were so many parties …”

“I thought you were nude. Apart from your high-heels and the broad chain belt snugly round your waist. But then I realised you were wearing the sweetest little transparent g-string panties …”

They didn’t stay on me long, did they?”

“No … no they didn’t … But …”

“And didn’t you enjoy the things we did together?”

“Yes … of course … But,” I said, pulling away from her, “that doesn’t alter the fact that you are not walking through Tokyo on a busy Saturday half naked. That is a party dress …”

“Don’t you want to see me walking half naked through Tokyo? Isn’t that one of your secret fantasies? Don’t you want to see me being admired?”

“Of course I do. But not arrested and sent to some correction facility for sex-crazed girls.”

“Don’t you like me being sex-crazed?”

“Yes … no …”

My head was spinning at this display of feminine logic. And of course secretly I did want to see her in public dressed like that: the nuder the better. She knew that very well.

“Hang on, I’ve had an idea.”

I slipped the little packet out of my pocket.

“Earlier you wanted to wear these all the way home,” I said, opening the velvet-covered box. “Now I’ll do a deal with you. You may wear that wonderful dress, and your sexy new shoes, all the way home so long as you screw these little clamps to your breasts. That way no one can say you’re technically indecent, and I’ll have let you do exactly what you want … as usual.”

Natsuko’s eyes were shining with sexual excitement.

“Oh, yes! … Yes, please!”

So she changed to the pretty silver shoes she was to wear that evening and I lightly fixed the clamps to her nipples, leaving it to her to adjust their grip to the level she liked. The young man packed her other belongings neatly into a carrier bag, and Natsuko gave him a dazzling smile and a flirtatious wiggle before leaving the shop. He gave me his card, and hoped we would be back. I wondered if he, too, had connections with the local sex industry. Probably—mainly, I guessed, with the soaplands and the establishments where young girls were on their knees before a different customer every fifteen minutes. Natsuko would like that. She had a fascination with the sleazier kinds of commercial sex which contrasted charmingly with her air of youthful innocence.

We had plenty of time before we needed to get ready for the evening, so after a ramble round Asakusa and a cheap meal at a lunch-counter we headed for the shops of Shinjuku. I could tell from Natsuko’s innocent face that she was constantly on the edge of orgasm, and was holding herself back from it as a man does when he is enjoying a nude show and wants the pleasure to last. She was, of course, attracting a lot of attention. Men looked at her with frank admiration, or even lust: one was so overwhelmed by her that he walked backwards into a telegraph post.

The most interesting and—to me—unexpected thing was the excitement she caused among young girls. It being a Saturday, wherever we went there were groups of Office Ladies out shopping, flashing their pretty legs under their sweet miniskirts, and of schoolgirls in their uniforms dreaming of being old enough to do the same. Repeatedly they stopped Natsuko, admired her and shyly asked where she had bought such a lovely dress. Each time I showed them the shop’s card, and they carefully noted down the details. Clearly Natsuko was starting a trend! If I had any head for business I would have gone back to the shop and insisted on a commission. But there are times in life when one has the opportunity to do something for the good of mankind without thought of profit.

If you were around in Japan in the early 1990s and remember the bodikon or “body-conscious” style favoured by sexy young girls, ultra short and ultra low-cut dresses which looked as if they had been painted onto their bodies, then I believe the fashion began that Saturday afternoon when Natsuko and I brought it out of the sex-shops of Asakusa and into the mainstream. So please be duly grateful. Unfortunately the idea of displaying the breasts fully naked, with just nipple-clamps or pasties to preserve (in public at least) the minimum of decency, didn’t catch on. But the bodikon era was still a great time to be in Tokyo—if like me you were a man obsessed with young Japanese girls.

We returned to my apartment with plenty of time still to spare before getting ready for the party. Natsuko took off her dress and danced round the room in just her high heels and nipple-clamps, singing, “Who wants to fuck me? Who wants to fuck me?”

“About half of Tokyo, I should think,” I said.

She giggled delightfully and came to rest with her back to me, rubbing her bottom lightly against my erection.

“Mm’mm! And aren’t you lucky you’re the one who’s going to do it?”

“Not now, Natsuko,” I said firmly. “I have a heavy evening’s fucking ahead of me and I need all my strength.”

She continued seducing me with her bottom.

I shall still have plenty of appetite—however many times you fuck me now.”

“I know. It’s not fair,” I said. “Girls can go on for ever—men can’t.”

“Men are so useless.”

“That’s one of the first things you said to me, the evening we met.”

“Yes. The wicked man took off the poor innocent little girl’s panties, and forced her to take him in her mouth while he did the most disgusting things to her, and then when she was thoroughly debauched—what a nice word you taught me today—and desperate for a proper fuck, said he couldn’t do it.”

It wasn’t quite the way I remembered our first meeting, but it was a nice story.

“Well,” she said, turning round in my arms and rubbing my cock with her cunt, “if you want to hang on to your precious cum, I’ll have to do to you what I did last Tuesday.”

“You and who else?” I said incautiously.

The moment I’d said it I realised it was a mistake.

“You said you wanted to visit us and take the test again—and promised you’d last more than an hour this time, didn’t you?”

Her hands were undoing the front of my trousers and preparing to push them and my underpants down to the floor.

“I’ll try. I was thinking of maybe next Tuesday …”

“Good. We’ll be waiting for you.” Her left hand was now lightly stroking my cock, while the fingers of her right were tickling the crack of my arse. “And you’ll need a lot of practice, ’cos we’re going to give you a really difficult time. You won’t last an hour, let alone longer.”

“What makes you think that?”

The middle finger of her right hand was slowly entering my arse-hole.

“We girls had a meeting to discuss you. We decided we made it much too easy for you last Tuesday. I told them all the things I know about you and your tastes.” The finger was now deep inside me and was tickling my prostate. “And we have a secret weapon.” With her left hand she fitted my cock neatly between her legs and began to rock slowly to and fro, stroking its upper surface with her pussy. “You liked little Sachi, didn’t you? The one with the pretty bottom?”

“Er, yes,” I said, trying to keep my voice neutral.

“And you’ve been asking her for a date, haven’t you, some evening when I have to be at home, so you can explore her pretty bottom all over again?”

Somehow I couldn’t find the correct answer to that.

“Oh, you don’t have to be embarrassed,” said Natsuko, withdrawing her finger from my arse and now using her right hand to prickle my balls lightly with the tips of her fingernails. “I know all about that. We girls have no secrets from each other. And I know she’ll give you a lovely time. But she’s promised not to agree to a date till after we’ve got our revenge next Tuesday.”

“If you do,” I said bravely.

“Of course we will! I told you, Sachi’s bottom is our secret weapon. We decided the way to deal with you is to chain you to the floor rather than to the wall like last week.”

“Hey!” I said.

“That’s just to start with. Then Sachi will slide your cock ever so slowly into her tight hole, and won’t let you go. You remember what she can do with those arse muscles of hers?”

I remembered all right.

“While she’s doing that, the rest of us will take turns sitting on your face.”

This was beginning to sound rather good.

“I’ve told everyone how you love it when a girl suddenly pisses in your mouth without warning.”

“Hey!” I said again. “That’s not fair!”

“When I discovered how much you enjoyed that, I wrote it down in my little notebook. The one you told me to keep. So I would remember what each lover liked best.”

“But that’s supposed to be secret!”

“I told you: we girls don’t have secrets from each other. Now, do you really think you can withstand that treatment for more than an hour?”

I didn’t, of course. But I suddenly had an idea.

“Tell me, are you the only girl in your group who knows about whipping?”

“You mean, being tortured and how lovely it is?”

“That’s right.”

“I think so. Of course I told them all about it, how you made me come and come, when you whipped me the first time. You remember?”

I remembered all right.

“Some of them are frightened,” she went on. “But most are very keen to try it. I don’t think they have yet, though.”

“I like whipping girls best when they are frightened and very keen to try it,” I said.

“That’s because you’re a sadistic beast,” said Natsuko, snuggling against me again. “I love men like that. Why don’t we …”

“Well, you’ll be meeting plenty of sadistic beasts this evening,” I said quickly. “Now, my idea. Suppose I win on Tuesday. Or some other Tuesday: it sounds as if it might be rather fun to lose a few times, so you can think of new ways of testing me. But when I win …”

I could see Natsuko was about to interrupt, but I overrode her.

When I win, how about you bringing a few girls with you the weekend after so I can give them their first whipping?”

“Your revenge?”

“No, no … it would be a sort of reward to them for being so clever and teasing me so prettily for so long.”

“Well, it’s a nice idea,” she said thoughtfully. “Can I be there too? And be whipped, I mean?”

“Of course. It would be no fun without you.”

“Wouldn’t it be a lot of work for you?”

“Yes, I suppose so,” I said with a resigned shrug. “But I don’t mind hard work in a good cause. And of course we could all go on to the usual Saturday night party. I’d let my friends know I was bringing a whole group of sex-crazy schoolgirls so there’d be plenty of men there to fuck them.”

“Couldn’t we all go to tonight’s sort of party?”

“One day, perhaps,” I said carefully. The people I was taking her to meet tonight had sophisticated tastes and would be bored by inexperienced schoolgirls. I sometimes think it is possible to be too sophisticated. “Once your friends have got beyond just having their breasts and arses tickled with a whip and have graduated to real torture.”

“Like I have?”

“Like you have. But—look, that’s given me another idea. Why don’t I buy a few pairs of nipple-clamps from the shop we went to this morning? Not the special ones you have, of course: the cheap modern ones. They’re almost as good. And then you and I can give them to the members of your Club when they have reached a certain standard.”

“A sort of medal, you mean?” said Natsuko thoughtfully.

“That’s right. Which they must wear always as a secret sign.”

“Oooh, lovely! A secret society of debauched girls devoted to perverted sex!”

“And I—you and I, I mean—can draw up a series of tests … more and more difficult and painful … which they have to pass if they want a medal!”

“You’re making me hot and juicy,” declared Natsuko. “Tie me up and whip me.”

“Oh, no. You’re reserved for some very special things this evening. And it’s high time we got you ready.”

“Ooh, yes! Shall I keep my new shoes on?”

“Yes, but those clamps must come off.”

“Oh, no!”

“Yes. From now on, you do exactly what you are told.”

She stood obediently before me. From the discreet carrier-bag of the Asakusa dress-shop I produced her shiny black corset and held it lightly against her.

“Oh, yes, please!” she breathed. “Make it tight—tight—as tight as you possibly can! Make me beautiful for them!”

Soon she was panting with pleasure as I bound her tightly into the cruel corset. Her breasts, their hard nipples straining towards me and showing how aroused she was, were almost irresistible. It was then that she begged me to make the bondage even tighter. I was afraid the cords of the corset would break—or that she would—before she was satisfied. But at last she had to accept that there was nothing more I could do, or that she could take.

“I look so pretty,” she said, in a little breathy voice, taking little gulps of air every few words. “It’s like being … remade, new … a virgin again … longing to be taken … for the first time …”

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than Lushstories.com with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © Copyright Bob Williams 2014



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