Turning JapaneseChapter 3 free porn video

We took our leave of Mistress Kami's BDSM shop and walked several blocks through the busy streets of Shibuya. It was sometime around nine o'clock and most of the larger retail stores were closed, but we passed a great many small bars and restaurants which would be open until well after midnight. There were a lot of people around, a large number of men who would stop for a drink or a bowl of ramen before going home after a long day at the office. They openly stared at Mistress Atsumi and I as we walked past them. The beautiful Japanese Dominatrix in her black leather leading a blonde American on a leash. I wanted to walk slowly because of the thick butt plug buried deep in my ass, but my Mistress set the pace and I had no choice but to keep up. I think she rather enjoyed it when I lagged behind as it gave the woman an excuse to give the leash a sharp tug and humiliate me in front of total strangers.

"Hurry up, slave! I don't care if your ass hurts," Mistress Atsumi laughed as she pulled me along. "You move like a bitch in heat. Do you need a cock, bitch?"

"N-No, Mistress," I said and the three men following us were chuckling as they whispered amongst themselves.

They'd been following us closely for a block already, wondering how much a whore like me would cost. They were deliberately vulgar and I blushed at their juvenile talk, how they would fuck me and cum on my face, for example. They were hardly imaginative, merely rude and I was grateful that Mistress Atsumi ignored one of them when he tried to ask her about me. But when he persisted, and I suspect he was more than slightly drunk, she stopped.

"Open my purse," Mistress Atsumi told me. "Give him one of my business cards."

"Yes, Mistress," I nodded and did as she told me.

"Come to the club sometime," Mistress Atsumi told all three of the men. "That's where she works."

"What's her specialty?" one of the men asked, teasing me while his friends laughed, but I was still wondering why Mistress Atsumi would say I worked for her.

"This slave?" She smiled and reached out to touch my cheek with her fingers. "She's a Milky Girl," Mistress Atsumi said and she suddenly pushed her thumb into my mouth. My eyes went wide with surprise at her words, but I kept my lips tight around the woman's thumb and sucked it like a small cock while the men watched.

I wanted very much to talk with Mistress Atsumi. I had a lot of questions and I was bewildered by some of her comments. I certainly didn't work at her club in Yokohama. I worked for my company, the one that had hired me right out of Harvard Business School. I'd spent six hard years getting my MBA and I wasn't going to throw that away. As soon as I could call my boss, the VP who'd disappeared with my purse and clothes, I would be going back to work.

This had been fun, the experience of being Atsumi's slave was intense and I wanted it to continue in the future. I wanted to learn more about myself and what we were doing, but I understood that my career had to be the most important thing. It was the reason I'd found myself with Atsumi at all, really. I'd only come to her club because my boss wanted me to entertain his guests. I'd already sacrificed so much for my job. My self-respect, my dignity, all so I could get the highest marks on my performance evaluations when my year was up and I could return to the normalcy of corporate America.

But how did she know I was a Milky Girl? That bothered me as well. I'd been called that by my co-workers, many of whom were convinced that I had a genuine fetish for sperm, but how would this woman know about that? I'd never met her before. Had my boss mentioned it while we'd sat in the club waiting for the stage show to begin? He might have said something to his two business associates and I suppose Mistress Atsumi could have overheard him, but I didn't think so. I didn't remember anything specific like that, but then again, I'd hardly been paying attention anyway. Unfortunately, in Japan a woman's place is on her knees and while I was with those three men they had treated me as little more than office furniture. No, I didn't understand at all how the woman had known I was a Milky Girl and it bothered me.

I was unable to find the courage to ask Mistress Atsumi my questions, however, and so I suffered them in silence as I followed her into a nondescript office building. It was a long, but very narrow building and unremarkable in any way, but in Tokyo it's impossible to predict what you will find inside any given structure. I wouldn't have been surprised to find public baths, a five star restaurant, or a porn theater at the end of our journey. Believe, anything was possible and all I knew for sure was that Atsumi told me we were going to the fifth floor.

There was an elevator, but we took the stairs, largely so I could enjoy the effects those 108 steps had on the plug in my ass and the extremely arched shoes on my feet. It was a slow torture and very subtle in design, I thought. I could feel Jun's sperm in my ass, moving fluidly around the plastic that stretched me so thoroughly. It was not entirely unpleasant, but my calves burned by the time we were done climbing. I was out of breath too and I reminded myself to get to the gym more often.

The place Mistress Atsumi was bringing me turned out to be a body modification shop, primarily for piercing it seemed, although it was apparent that branding and tattooing were also available. There were large display cases with all forms of rings, bars, and oddly shaped metal devices designed to penetrate, stretch, or compress the flesh. On the walls were photographs, large and small, in color and black and white, of actual piercing, brandings, and tattoos. I had never been in such a place in my life and I swallowed nervously, wondering why we were here, but instinctively knowing it was for my benefit.

The man who owned the place was older, with long white hair and a somewhat darker, grayish beard. I found that slightly strange for the Japanese generally have little regard for facial hair, at least the men I knew. He was slight in stature and dressed normally enough in a short sleeved shirt and dark trousers. It was quickly obvious to me that he knew Mistress Atsumi very well. My Mistress bowed low before him briefly and this surprised me so much that I did not move at all.

"She is American?" he asked immediately, not bothering with even the most rudimentary greetings. This again surprised me, as polite and proper greetings are a cultural institution for the most part.

"Yes," Mistress Atsumi said and gave me a sharp glance.

I regained my senses then and bowed at once to the man, able to ignore the protesting discomfort in my ass. I bent at the waist as low as possible, knowing I had to show as much or more respect to this man than Atsumi had. I held my bow until I heard him speak again, perhaps ten seconds later. It seemed a very long time.

"Does she speak Japanese?" he wondered and I had the impression he'd never seen an American before, ridiculous as that may sound.

"It's passable, she's still learning," Mistress Atsumi replied as I straightened up again. "Slave, greet this man. His name is Keiyu."

I kept my eyes properly lowered and spoke as well as I knew how. "Master Keiyu, it is an honor for this humble slave to be in your presence." I frowned as I knew at once that my pronunciation of several words had been flawed. "I ... I beg your patience for my ignorant tongue."

The man laughed happily and clapped his hands, as if he'd just witnessed a trained seal bouncing a ball on it's nose. It seemed very impolite of him to mock me that way, I thought. I wondered then if Mistress Atsumi was equally displeased, but I didn't dare to look. I merely closed my eyes tightly instead and felt my eyes growing moist above my hot cheeks. I found the entire episode very humiliating.

"You will always surprise me, Atsumi!" the man chortled. "But it's good to see you so happy again. It's been too long since I've seen you, daughter."

Daughter? I almost looked up in surprise. I didn't know if he'd used the word literally or figuratively. Daughter wasn't a term of familiarity that I'd heard in common use. I thought it must be the truth and the idea of being presented in this fashion to Mistress Atsumi's father was almost distressing to me. There was no practical experience I could draw upon to give their relationship context. My own father was an insurance adjuster, he knew as much about my personal relationships as I did about brain surgery. But Mistress Atsumi and her father seemed to be much more intimate than that.

"This is what I would like for her." Mistress Atsumi said, handing the man a piece of paper covered with kanji in her delicate script.

Keiyu looked over the note carefully, rubbing his beard at one point. "Have you discussed this with her?" He looked at Atsumi hard, reminding me of the way my father looked at me when he thought I was making a mistake.

"No. I don't have to, she's my slave." Mistress Atsumi tugged the leash and I dropped to my knees in response. "She will accept what I ask of her."

"She's not Aijen, Atsumi," her father's voice was soft and I wondered who Aijen was and what this was all about. I tried to get a look at the note, but not obviously, and my skills at reading Japanese did not extend to upside down handwriting in any case.

It seemed clear that Mistress Atsumi wished the man to do something to me, but I had no idea what that could be. I assumed that whatever it was would be permanent and I was torn between wanting to have it done, whatever it might be, without having any choice; and the more sensible desire to exercise some control over what happened to my body.

"I know that, father," Atsumi was speaking quietly. "But I know this woman. I know what she wants, even if she doesn't. Do you doubt it?" She seemed to be challenging the old man and he shook his head.

"I do not doubt that you believe that, Atsumi."

"So then you'll do it?" Atsumi crossed her arms, pulling my leash inadvertently so that I had to lean forward with my head to her thigh.

"You must ask her first." The man pushed the paper across the glass countertop between them. "I will not do it like this."

"I'll ask her now then. You'll see that I'm right." Atsumi reached down and touched my face, lifting my chin with her fingertips so that I looked up and into her face. Her expression seemed clouded by something, fear perhaps, or uncertainty, like the woman wasn't quite so self-assured as she'd professed herself to be.

"Slave..." she paused. "Jen-san, do you wish me to free you, right now? I will give you back your things, Fumiko has them, and you will leave me and we will never speak again. Do you wish this?"

I was not so surprised at her admission that Fumiko had my clothing and my purse. I'd actually suspected as much and it had given our little game a wonderful pretext. I thought about what I'd been through that evening and how I'd seemed to learn and grow at every step. I felt loved and wanted by this woman, as I'd never been before, and even now I could see hope shining in her eyes. Atsumi didn't want me to leave her. But I didn't know what, if anything, I was accepting or losing. I didn't know how far our game extended or what all the rules were. Somehow that didn't seem to matter, because Mistress Atsumi would know, and she would protect me. I was certain of it.

"No, Mistress. I do not wish to be free." I couldn't help but put my arms around her waist as I knelt there. "Please, do not send me away."

"Do you love me, Jen-san?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Do you trust me also?"

"Yes, Mistress. I love and trust you."

"Will you give yourself to me now, here in front of my father, as my slave and lover?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"You must say it, Jen-san."

"I give myself to you, Mistress Atsumi, my body and my heart and my spirit and my mind. I will be your slave and I will be your lover in all things. I swear this to you, before your father and all of the world. I beg you to accept this humble offering, Mistress."

I don't know where those words came from. It seemed as though another voice had spoken through my lips, a different me, unknown and unsuspected. Someone lurking and waiting within my heart for this precise moment in time. It is a very Japanese concept that every thing and every person has a perfect state of existence, a harmony in which they are most pure and most content. I had heard of it, read of it, but never experienced or even believed in it. Until right then. Giving myself to this woman, a stranger it had taken 26 years and 10,000 miles to find, was my perfect moment.

"I accept you Jen-san," Mistress Atsumi said softly and I wept gently, feeling myself suddenly overcome by emotions I had never experienced before. She stroked my face lovingly and smiled at her father.

"Huh," the older man grunted, but he accepted me also. "She has a lot to learn, but that is your concern now. Come with me."

He led us to a small room with a chair that seemed like a cross between a dentist's chair and an OB/GYN examination table. I was told to undress completely and I did so, feeling only a little shyness as Mistress Atsumi's father watched me intently. I struggle briefly to get free of the dress, as it was entirely too small for my body and I think my self-conscious efforts amused the old man. Mistress Atsumi had stayed behind in the shop proper and perhaps I felt more uncomfortable being out of her presence than anything else.

"You may call me father now," Keiyu said as he positioned me in the chair, bringing stirrups into place, wide apart so I had to spread my legs, exposing my sex to him. "I will pierce you tonight, seven times, and when those are healed I will do additional piercings until your Mistress is satisfied."

"Yes, father." I nodded, swallowing nervously as seven piercings sounded like quite a lot to a woman with only pierced earlobes.

He washed my sex with surgical soap, having put on some thin latex gloves already. It was a gentle, but thorough process that left my pussy tingling. I felt his fingers inside me, not far, just enough to find my inner lips.

"These are the labia minora," he said in English, spreading my outer lips and pulling at the smaller interior lips with the tip of his finger. I could see them, thin and bright pink from the scrubbing he'd given me. "I will pierce them both, three times on each side, and set interlocking rings into them. You'll be able to urinate, to have your menstruation, but you won't be able to penetrate your vagina with much more than your little finger. You're hole is very small anyway, so perhaps not even that. Do you understand this?"

I nodded again. "Yes, father. I understand."

"That's called female infibulation and it will keep you chaste. I will also pierce your clitoral hood." His fingers were stroking the sheath of my clit, coaxing that small bundle of nerves to stiffen and emerge from her shy retreat. It felt good and I blushed slightly as I watched the man's expert fingers draw my clit to her full erect state, all of perhaps a quarter inch in length, softly rounded and ruddy. It was aching already and the thought of having my clit pierced filled me with fear.

"Do not worry, child, I've done this many times before. It'll be painful, but I will not injure you." He gave me what I hoped was a comforting smile. I just gulped and nodded. My clit was very sensitive sometimes. "You have a wonderful pubis." He traced a finger just above my sex, on the fat little swell just above my slit. "I should like to give you a tattoo there sometime. Something personal. You should consider it, because I think your Mistress would enjoy giving you such a gift."

"I understand, father." It seemed strange calling him that when I considered it in English. I'd been a good catholic girl growing up and it seemed as if I were addressing him as a priest, but in Japanese it was better, with a meaning closer to Daddy.

"Your piercings will heal within a month anyway," he said, removing his fingers from my sex. "Six weeks at the most and your Mistress will know how to care for them."

Atsumi had returned and I could see she was carrying several small plastic bags containing the seven rings. Six of the rings were silvery, surgical steel as Keiyu explained, and they were obviously for my infibulation. Once they were in my flesh, piercing the small inner lips of my cunt, they wouldn't be noticed by the casual observer. My outer lips, the larger ones, would hide my rings well enough, at least until someone tried to fuck me, I thought with a smile. I had no idea how I felt about that. I liked having sex and the idea that I wasn't going to enjoy intercourse again filled me with no small amount of apprehension. That and having my clitoris pierced. I liked my clitty just the way it was and sticking a needle through the most sensitive spot on my entire body seemed a little insane to me, despite father's reassurances.

Keiyu took the bags and dumped the contents into a small autoclave so that they would be properly sterilized, closing the lid and turning a dial, then flipping a little switch. "It will take some time before everything is clean," the man said as he looked down at me and Atsumi smiled at him.

"Would you like to take her, father?" she asked him sweetly.

"I have washed her already," the man said.

"But you can always wash her again," Atsumi persisted. "It is fitting perhaps that her new father will be the last man she will ever have inside her cunt." The vulgar word widened my eyes and once again I tried to imagine myself saying such a thing in front of my real dad and I couldn't.

Keiyu nodded and smiled, laughing as he undid his trousers and revealing a very large penis that soon grew to full erection. Mistress Atsumi pulled a stool close to the chair and sat down next to me, leaning her face close to mine as he we both watched her father rubbing his penis across my slit.

"I have never been with a man, slave," Mistress Atsumi whispered, the tip of her tongue tickling my ear. "But if I did, it would be with our father. Enjoy it for me." She said it almost angrily, I thought, and grabbed a fistful of my hair, turning my face to kiss me hard. She pushed her tongue deep into my mouth at the same moment Keiyu thrust his cock into the furthest reaches of my cunt with one swift thrust.

The effect of being fucked by a large penis, combined with the large plug still stretching my ass, was a new and intense experience. I felt more full than I'd ever been before in my life. It seemed Keiyu touched me in places that I'd never known existed. I could feel the friction between his shaft and the butt plug through the thin sensitive walls of flesh that separated them and the effect was deliciously wicked. I started cumming almost at once, having been primed by his earlier touches and the impossible knowledge that this might be the last cock I would ever feel reaching my womb.

Mistress Atsumi continued kissing me the entire time. It seemed our mouths could never tire of each other and I felt her hand massaging my breasts, squeezing and manipulating the flesh until my nipples burned and felt as though they would leap from my body. I felt her leather clad fingers tracing my welts, exploring my bruised tits, digging into my body painfully when she wanted to elicit a sharp yelp from my open mouth. She drank all of that experience, breathing my moans and sighs until I could barely control my own body. I was jerking off the chair, thrusting my cunt against the cock invading me, arching my back to press my tits to Mistress Atsumi's palms, and working my tongue frantically against hers. My orgasm's were rapid and they stole all sense from my mind.

When father came, it was deep inside my sex, flooding me with his sperm and I enjoyed it immensely. I found myself almost wishing that I hadn't been on the pill, that I could have conceived a child by this last man to cum inside my cunt. I might have had a daughter, a sister for Mistress Atsumi and I to love, but this was only the idle dreaming of the rapture in which I was caught. It took a very long time for my heart to slow again and for my lungs to stop their ragged heaving. Father cleaned my sex gently, using a washcloth and a small douche to wash me inside. He placed a pan beneath my sex and I watched as his sperm flowed out of me, thin and weak as the man bathed my vagina with warm water.

The piercings themselves did not take so long to perform and were only mildly painful. He did my inner labia first, as he'd promised, using canula needles, that left a small plastic sleeve behind when they passed through my body. He used circlip pliers to open each ring, which were not ball closures, like the one that would go through my clit, but more like small hoop earrings, with a narrow end that fit into the hollow of the other end. He put three in each of my labia minora, spaced equally apart with a few millimeters between them, and interlocked as he'd described so that my pussy was effectively shut to any meaningful penetration. It was forced chastity and my emotional response was curious. I didn't know how I'd feel about that in the days, weeks, possibly even years to come.

The piercing of my clitoris was next, my clitoral hood, I should say. He wouldn't actually pierce my clit, thank goodness. I still fidgeted nervously however, watching as Keiyu prepared me for it. All of the rings in my labia were 2mm gauge surgical steel, but the one in my clit would be smaller, only 1.6mm and made of 18 carat gold. It was a ball closure ring with the ball itself made from a small 4mm pearl. Although beautiful to look at, father told me he would have preferred to use a less ornamental ring of surgical steel until I'd healed, and then replaced it, but Mistress Atsumi had insisted on this.

He rubbed my clitoris once again, but this time engaged my tender flesh with a surgical clamp. Resembling a small pair of scissors, they were designed for squeezing, not cutting, and he gripped my clit and pulled it outward slightly. He wanted to get the ring as low as possible, father explained, and very near the base of my clitoris. This wasn't so much painful as it was dramatically over-stimulating and I trembled at the sensation, biting my lips as Mistress Atsumi held me in her arms and whispered soft words of encouragement.

Father did the actual piercing quickly after that and it did hurt, but not nearly so bad as I'd imagined. He did it as he'd done with my labia, using a canula needle, pushing it through the thin sheath completely until a plastic sleeve penetrated my flesh, then threading the ring through the sleeve. He removed the sleeve and fitted the pearl ball closure and let the ring close shut. It was over in only a few minutes and I stared at the new jewelry I sported, hanging just to left of tender clitoris like a pale drop of milk. The ring itself, I quickly realized, had been placed in a position where it would forever stimulate my clitoris, whether I wanted it to or not.

Mistress Atsumi kissed me as I relaxed, smiling with relief that the procedure had been so simple. It was probably harder for father than for me, trying to juggle the clamp, the needle, the circlip pliers, and the ring. I giggled and told him he needed an assistant and he took it good naturedly, smiling up at me and telling me that sharing would take half the fun out of it.

Father washed me gently again, then took a number of photos, asking me to spread my pussy at one point so that the rings in my inner lips could be more easily seen. After taking the pictures, he applied a medicinal cream to fight infection and handed me the tube to take with me. He told me what to watch for as I healed, and how to care for my piercings, but didn't go into a lot of detail. He repeated that Mistress Atsumi knew how to care for me. He said the best thing now would be to go home and lie down, to remain off my feet for a few days, and let my body take care of itself. All of this sounded very good to me because I was very tired then.

I did put my panties back on and I both walked and sat very carefully on the way to Mistress Atsumi's apartment. She lived near the Ginza, the great shopping district, and her apartments were generous by Japanese standards, on the eighth floor of a large complex. She led me to a bedroom, which seemed largely to be used for storage at the moment, and told me it would be mine. She found me a simple kimono, of the casual sort used for relaxing in the privacy of one's home or garden, and left to make us tea while I changed. I could move only slowly, for my piercings had begun to ache greatly, and of course the dress was still tight and difficult to remove, but I managed.

I found Mistress Atsumi in the kitchen, she had undressed as the water heated and now stood wearing only a silk robe, belted around her waist. She smiled when she saw me and placed our tea, sugar, cream, and some small pastries on a tray and I followed her to a large balcony. It was secluded and filled with plants so that it resembled a terrace garden. One could almost ignore the city spread out behind the thick shrubbery and trees that crowded the wrought iron railing.

Mistress Atsumi and I sat close together in small lounge chairs, sipping our tea and talking. We discussed who we were, where we'd come from, our experiences growing up, sharing the little things that make us who we are. It was very much like a first date, that nervous talk when you hope you won't say something silly, or that your interests won't seem utterly boring. The difference of course was that I'd already given myself to this woman, even though I had no real understanding of why or how. It had just happened. How dreadful it might have been then to find that we had nothing in common, that we were not meant for each other after all.

Luckily, that was not the case. If anything I found myself even more drawn to this incredibly beautiful Japanese woman. Every word she said rang familiar to me, echoing a similar thought, or feeling, or experience in my own life. I think my words had the same effect on her as well. At some point our tea was forgotten and I found myself embraced in her arms, kissing the woman passionately as she whispered soft words of love into my ears. I, who had never had a lesbian experience in my life until that evening, was hopelessly enamored with my new Mistress.

The hour had grown late when Fumiko arrived. She and Mistress Atsumi shared everything it seemed; ownership of the BDSM club, the apartment, and to some extent even me. Fumiko found us still on the terrace, quietly sitting and almost sleeping by then in the warm summer night. She had prepared a snack and sat down to eat it, smiling at us as she discussed what had happened at the club, small business things that were of no major importance. Mistress Atsumi in her turn told Fumiko that I had given myself to her completely, news that did not seem to surprise Fumiko, nor was it immediately apparent if she was pleased or displeased. I felt very tired by then and found it too difficult to try and understand the girl.

I woke up the next day and it was almost noon. I felt very sore between my legs and somewhat itchy. I reached down to scratch myself before I remembered my piercings. Fumiko was awake already and she smiled and offered me a cheerful greeting when I wandered into the kitchen. She told me her sister was still sleeping, but that she was glad I was awake because we had many things to do, the first being to eat and then get me cleaned up.

I felt very hungry and after a breakfast of rice and scrambled eggs with some small sausages, Fumiko took me into the bathroom. It was arranged in traditional fashion, although somewhat larger than the usual that I'd seen. It was separated into three areas by sliding doors. There was a small toilet, a large white and blue tiled area for bathing, which had both a shower and a large plastic tub beneath a spigot, already filled with water. There were eyebolts embedded in the floor near the walls, which seemed curious. The last room contained the hot bath, similar in shape, but smaller than a simple Jacuzzi.

Fumiko undressed me completely and then undressed herself. She had me turn around and bend over so she could remove the butt plug from my ass, grimacing when she saw how dirty it was. I had become so used to it that I hadn't even realized it was still inside me while I'd slept. She told me to use the toilet while she washed it for me, but after that morning I would have to take care of it myself. I would wear the plug at all times, removing it only for bathing and for using the toilet. A buttplug was to become a part of me, like my piercings, and Fumiko assured me with a curious smile that I would soon have an assortment of plugs for our Mistress to choose from.

After my toilet, we washed Japanese fashion. First with cold water spooned from the large tub, washing ourselves thoroughly with soap. Fumiko washed my piercings carefully and explained to me that there would be some swelling and some discoloration and discharge, but that was normal. She would check me everyday, or Mistress Atsumi would, until they were healed fully. After rinsing, we took a hot bath in the very large tub, heated through the bottom by natural gas. It was not really for bathing, of course, only for soaking, for relaxing after the cold bath. Normally such baths would be long and leisurely affairs, but Fumiko warned me that it was not good to bathe new piercings too often or too long, so our bath would be short.