“Stop!” Mistress Atsumi’s voice startled me, making me quiver with fear and anticipation. My hands were on my belly, sliding up and down halfway between my aching, swollen breasts and the fire burning between my thighs. I didn’t remember letting go of the sheets.
I stared at my Mistress, feeling both shame and longing. She was dressed nicely, presumably just arriving back from the club. Fumiko stood naked behind her, not smiling and whispering something to Atsumi who seemed to wave the girl away.
“Mistress…” I couldn’t help but smile, a little shyly perhaps, but Atsumi frowned.
“Do not speak,” she said and her words fell like a slap to my face. She removed the belt from my breasts and the sudden wave of pain made me cry out as blood rushed back into my tortured flesh.
Fumiko produced several pairs of handcuffs, real ones it seemed, and Atsumi turned me over onto my stomach so that my breasts were crushed painfully beneath my weight. In this way Mistress bound me to the bed frame, at my ankles and legs, so I was spread eagle and completely exposed. By the time she’d finished, Fumiko had returned with a small black satchel. Atsumi opened it and pulled out some vials, a small can and some matches. She used a spoon, and some cotton, cooking something on the nightstand and filling a syringe with it.
“What is that, Mistress?” I asked her. I felt uncomfortable, sensing it was something that I shouldn’t ever know about.
“It is heroin, Jen-san. Now lie still and you will like this.” She brought the needle to my arm and I protested then, telling her I didn’t want it, I couldn’t do any such thing.
“Please,” I begged her. “Don’t…” But it was too late. She pushed the plunger and a moment later I felt the most wonderful sensations. Floating and dreaming, without a care in the world.
She made love to me then, removing the butt plug from my ass and using a huge dildo that looked as though it should have split me in two, but it didn’t. It only felt good and I was flying with her on top of me, kissing me, fucking me over and over again until I couldn’t stop cumming. It was the most perfect and beautiful experience of my life and all I knew was that I never, ever wanted her to stop making love to me.
At some point I must have passed out, for I awoke still chained to the bed, sore and thirsty and I needed to pee badly. The bedroom lights were still on and I lifted my head weakly, looking over my shoulder to see the large dildo protruding from my ass. It was massive, stretching me unnaturally and I became aware of a particular pain deep between my legs, like a cramp, but not throbbing, not coming and going, just a constant ache.
“You’re awake now, good.” Fumiko had entered the room and she smiled at me. “How do you feel?”
“Sore,” I whispered. “I need to use the bathroom.”
Fumiko nodded and moved to the bed, reaching between my legs and pulling the dildo from my ass. It had been inside me at least eight or nine inches, I thought, and it bulged in places, very wide and uneven, not a smooth phallus at all. She set it aside and unlocked my cuffs, letting me roll over slowly and finally sit up. Then Fumiko handcuffed my hands behind my back. She did the same with my ankles, locking the two lengths of chain together, so I would have to shuffle my feet as I walked.
“Why do you have to keep me like this?” I asked the smaller woman. I felt like I was sleep walking, there was no resistance inside me and the chains seemed ridiculous.
She just shrugged. “It’s part of your training.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know what else to say. “Mistress…She gave me something last night. Heroin, I think.” It was difficult to walk and the cramp between my legs felt worse when I moved.
“Yes. I know,” Fumiko nodded. She carried the dildo and my butt plug into the bathroom as I followed slowly. She helped me sit down on the toilet and I felt a little embarrassment having Fumiko there, but she attended to washing the dildo and the butt plug in the sink while I urinated.
“You must shit as well.” Fumiko looked at me and I wasn’t sure I could. “The heroin will make you constipated, but you are loose now.”
I tried and pushed, but it hurt and I shook my head. “Later, please?” Fumiko just shrugged and wiped my pussy with some toilet paper.
“Perhaps Mistress will give you an enema.” She reached down and fingered my asshole gently. “We will bathe later,” she told me.
Fumiko brought me back to the bedroom and chained me once again to the bed, this time on my back. She pushed the butt plug in my ass, asking me to raise my hips for her. I felt a welcome pressure as the widest part stretched my anus once again and then it slipped inside and Fumiko pushed it snugly back into place. I watched wordlessly as Fumiko retrieved the same kit that Atsumi had used the night before and I asked her why she was injecting me with heroin. “Didn’t you like it?” she asked me, smiling a little.
“Yes, I did like it. But isn’t it…dangerous?”
“No, not like this, Mistress only wants to make you hungry for it.”
“She doesn’t have to though,” I whispered.
“Why is that?” Fumiko asked, pushing the needle into my arm.
“Because…I’m hungry for her…” I felt the rush of the drugs coming into my head and I felt like I was swimming in a fire, but it didn’t burn me, it just felt good.
“You are a strange woman, Jen-san.” Fumiko was undressing and I just stared at her. I thought she had to be the most beautiful thing in the world just then, glowing and flowing, like she was made of water, all wet and warm.
“Are you wet?” I asked her, but she didn’t understand me.
“Drink this now.” She straddled my face, kneeling over my mouth and pressing her tiny pussy to my lips. She was wet, all water and warm and salty as she poured herself into my mouth, slowly at first and I drank eagerly. Then she turned bitter and I felt my stomach churning against her and I didn’t want to drink this girl. The drugs were twisting everything I knew, confusing me and I wanted to be clear, but it was so hard. I swallowed as much as I could and felt some of her running down my face, wetting my pillow and soaking my hair and neck. Fumiko lifted herself and I breathed deeply.
“Did I hurt you?” I asked her, because it seemed I must have drank half of her small body already.
“What?” She laughed at me. “No, of course not. Do you want more?”
“You’re so small, Fumiko-san,” I said and I licked my lips wondering why she tasted like that.
“But I have a lot of piss for you. Drink.” She put her pussy back to my mouth and I clamped my lips over it, feeling the girl filling my mouth again and again as I swallowed.
And then Fumiko changed, slowly, dissolving and growing into her sister, Atsumi, as lights and shadows from the window moved fast and slow, the world spinning away without me. “What time is it?” My voice sounded soft and tired and I felt as though I could barely keep my eyes open.
“It’s time for another injection,” Atsumi smiled and I realized she was holding the syringe.
“Oh…” I nodded, smiling. “I remember.”
“Shhh…quiet now…Fumiko!” she called and a moment later the girl appeared, naked and sweating, her body flushed. “Hold her arm still.”
“Yes Mistress.” The girl grabbed my left arm tightly and I watched dispassionately as Atsumi pricked my arm, filling me with another dose of the wonderful drug.
“You have such a perfect body, Jen-san. Good veins.” She withdrew the needle and kissed me. “Whip her,” Mistress told Fumiko and then she left.
Being whipped while on heroin is like dying and going to heaven, only to find the Marquis de Sade in charge. Once again my breasts had to endure the punishment. Fumiko used a very small switch made of wood. It was thin and flexible and intensely painful. She whipped my tits for a long time while my mind tried to cope with the dream-like, surreal quality the drugs lent to the scene.
At times it felt as though each small stroke was a living thing, like a viper biting into my flesh, insinuating itself beneath my skin, coiling and writhing so that the welts seemed to wriggle and crawl before my horrified eyes. At other times I was apart from it, observing casually and feeling nothing. The sharp slapping sound echoed in my ears, reverberating, and I laughed and cried and felt myself going mad beneath Fumiko’s smiling gaze.
I don’t think I ever fell totally asleep, but I wasn’t awake either. I was somewhere in between. Mistress Atsumi was there and I looked at her. “I have to go to work,” I told her, since that was the first thought that came into my head. The second thought was that I was going to be sick. I felt my stomach cramping and I had a dim memory of a dream, of drinking Fumiko’s urine.
“You are at work, Jen-san.” The woman looked at me and I saw she was dressed in a wonderful kimono, pink and white and blue, a classic design of Japanese cranes. Her hair was put up and held in place with an ivory comb. She had a powdered face and crimson lips, and her eyes were black and beautiful.
I rolled over onto my side, bringing my hands underneath my cheek like a little girl. It took me a long moment to realize I was no longer chained to the bed. “What did you do to me?” I whispered, watching Mistress Atsumi as she just stood there, beautiful and ethereal like a dream.
“I gave you a reward,” her voice was soothing. “Because I love you so much. You must bathe and dress. I would like you at the club tonight.”
“I’m so…sleepy.” I yawned and curled up a little tighter. “Mistress…” I breathed and then she was gone.
“Jen…Jen…” Someone was tugging at my arm and I opened my eyes to see Fumiko. “Come with me now. We need to get ready.” I stood and stretched, moving slowly and feeling sore and stiff all over. I examined my breasts and they were a mass of bruises, stained yellow and purple and black. They were grotesque and beautiful, I thought, crisscrossed with welts that hadn’t healed yet. My nipples were puffy and swollen and colored dark red. I massaged my tits tenderly, admiring how the swelling made them seem even larger, the skin tight and warm.
“You’re an artist, Fumiko-san!” I giggled a little, wondering if it was me, or if I was still a little high on the drugs they’d given me.
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