“You will sit with customers. You’re not a waitress, so you will sit and do what they tell you to.” She watched as I nodded. “I’ll be close by, so you won’t have to worry, nobody will hurt you.”
I followed her down the hall and we exited through the bar where I was immediately seized upon by a man sitting by himself. He crooked his finger at me and I looked at Fumiko who nodded. I walked over, having absolutely no idea what I was doing or what the man might be expecting from me.
“I see you do not talk, eh?” The Japanese man was perhaps 40 years old, with the superior attitude that I deplored in many of the Japanese men I’d come into contact with. “Well, that’s good, because I don’t want your mouth to talk, bitch.”
The word sounded terrible in Japanese and it took me a moment to recognize it. He told me to remove his cock and watched as I gave him a blowjob with people waking past, or sitting nearby at their tables, seeing me and commenting on the American woman. I was so embarrassed by this I almost couldn’t finish, but I had little choice anyway. My mouth was locked open and eventually the man just grabbed a fistful of hair and moved my mouth up and down his cock the way he wanted until he came with a rush of thin, salty semen.
Swallowing proved to be extremely difficult and I made quite a mess, which did not make the Japanese man happy at all. I shrank away from him as he voiced his opinion of American whores who couldn’t even swallow a man’s cum properly. He slapped at my tits painfully and I started crying, although more from outrage and embarrassment than any real injury to my body.
Fumiko came over and I looked at her hopefully, certain that she would protect me from this man. It wasn’t my fault the man had cum all over himself. If I hadn’t had to wear this silly gag I could have given him a real blowjob, didn’t he know that? Fumiko, I was sure, would straighten everything out.
“This stupid cow has ruined my trousers.” The man pointed his finger at me. “It’s an insult and she did it deliberately.”
“Is this true, Jen-san?” Fumiko stared at me and I couldn’t believe my ears. I shook my head vigorously.
“She’s a lying bitch,” the man pronounced and Fumiko nodded.
“She must be punished, sir. Will you do it?” She bowed to the man and I felt my whole body flush with anger.
“Yes. Of course,” he said and I waited silently, wondering what my punishment would be.
Fumiko returned with a strange looking whip. It had a handle and seven long flat strips of leather attached to it. I guessed it was for flogging, similar to a cat o’nine tails, but slightly less abusive. I would soon learn though that it was capable of producing quite a lot of pain when used properly.
I was laid over the small round table on my back and I heard Fumiko talking to the man. “Sir, this slave is still in training, only her breasts may be punished.”
The man grunted and lost no time flogging my breasts. He must have used a whip before, because he had a way of snapping his wrist at precisely the right instant to crack the ends over whichever part of my skin he preferred. Invariably that seemed to be my nipples and I was soon writhing in pain upon that small stage. A number of onlookers had moved closer, commenting on the man’s skill. I sobbed loudly, but with the gag in my mouth it sounded like a curious mewling sound and it got no response but laughter.
He flogged me for perhaps ten minutes, good thirty or forty blows maybe more. My tits were hot and dark red now, and every touch on my flesh left a lingering stain of white. They burned and I was swept up once again by an indescribable pleasant sensation beneath it all, struggling to surface. My hips were moving, but not jerking as the rest of me was, they were grinding as if searching for something and I had my hands there eventually, pressing against my sex as the last few blows fell.
The man noticed, as did more than a few others. “The bitch likes it!” he laughed. “This was no punishment!” He dropped the whip on my heaving belly and moved away from me.
“Come! Sit with me now.” I barely had time to think before another man was pulling me to my feet. Fumiko did nothing to interfere, she merely picked up the whip, and so I followed the man as though I were drugged. He was younger, maybe in his late twenties, and he brought me to a table where two friends of his sat, also young men. “I am Keisu, this is Aisen…and Tomasu. You are so beautiful. Why do you let them do this to you?”
His words made very little sense. I was still trying to catch my breath and it felt as if my whole body was throbbing with the fire centered in my breasts. I looked at him, but of course I couldn’t speak. It didn’t really matter anyway, because despite the man’s pleasant manner and polite introductions, it soon became obvious that he and his friends were only really interested in fucking an American.
I had no idea what I was expected to do, or even if there were limitations to what I could do, so I did not resist. I pulled my thong to the side and straddled them one at a time, facing them so they could play with my abused tits while I rode their cocks with my stretched and ready ass. It was what I’d been aching for and the men were very pleased they were making me cum so quickly and often. The truth is I would have gotten off riding a doorknob; these guys were just in the right place at the right time. But if I’ve learned anything, Japanese men have egos made out of glass.
It was a very long night, the club did not close until 2am by that time I had sucked or fucked about a dozen men. I’d been punished three times, always by a flogging across my tits. The belts had been removed and put back on several times, which was even worse than the floggings. When the bonds were removed from my breast and blood flowed back into the bruised and oxygen starved cells, it was like the floodgates to hell had been opened. It seemed the most painful thing in the world for five or ten minutes and then the pain would subside to a dull throbbing ache that never went entirely away.
Fumiko removed the gag from my mouth which hurt just to close and I had to practice talking because my jaw had become so stiff. “You have done very well tonight, Jen-san,” my sister told me, for that was how I thought of her now.
“I did not understand why you let that man punish me,” I said slowly, trying to pronounce the difficult words correctly with my aching jaws. Fumiko looked at me, giving me a seductive smile. “But now…I understand. Thank you, Fumiko-san.” I bowed to her, very much wanting her to know that I was learning.
“Quiet now, we will bathe and you’ll go with Mistress Atsumi tonight.” She smiled at the look on my face, understanding that I thought myself much too weary for more adventure. “We are like vampires, Jen-san. We live at night, you will see. It’s also for your training.”
She smiled and led me to the small bath, frowning at Niya and Miki, who were already inside, splashing each other playfully. She grabbed the closest by her hair, but which of the twins it was I had no way of knowing, and pulled the girl to her feet.
“Go home now, or I’ll crucify you and leave you on stage for a week!” Fumiko said, but the girl only laughed and danced away, smiling at me. The other one rose slowly, grabbing a towel as Fumiko slapped her small round ass. “And you, I will have mounted by a dog!”
“Do you promise?” The girl giggled and hurried out before Fumiko could spank her again.
“They are a terrible tease, don’t you think?” Fumiko sighed and I smiled, nodding my head.
“I have done that,” I said as Fumiko washed me carefully.
“Done what?” She worked her soapy fingers into my ass and I gave a little moan.
“Been mounted by a dog,” I admitted. “By three dogs.”
Fumiko laughed at that. “And did you enjoy it, Jen-san?”
“I did not think I enjoyed it much at the time,” I shrugged with a smile of my own at the memory. “But now I can tell myself that yes, I did enjoy it very much.”
“Then I shall have to speak with your Mistress about a pet.” I looked up sharply, uncertain if the girl was teasing me or not, and Fumiko laughed, giving me no clue as to her intentions.
I dressed in different clothes than I had arrived in, a simple red cotton jumpsuit. The zipper went from my pussy to midway between my swollen bruised breasts, leaving them nearly exposed in a most obscene manner. I wore no underwear, merely my butt plug and collar. But it was comfortable enough, even sexy, despite the utilitarian design. The shoes were an incongruous touch, with 3″ heels, but there was little that could be done for that.
“Is she ready?” Mistress Atsumi walked in just as I was straightening up and Fumiko brushed my hair quickly.
“Yes, Mistress,” Fumiko replied and giving me a kiss on the cheek. “She is perfect.”
I didn’t know what was going on, but I hurried after Mistress Atsumi, falling into step behind her. She paused at the door, clipping her leash to my collar and giving me a small smile. “I watched you very closely tonight. I think you are learning, slave.”
“Thank you, Mistress.” I lowered my eyes, blushing at the unexpected praise.
“We will go someplace where you can rest. We have a home near Fuji-san. You will be safe and we will learn from each other, you’ve been busy; you’re tired and need to heal. The city is not good for that.” She looked outside briefly as a taxi pulled up to the curb. “Tell me your thoughts now. Quickly, slave!”
“I love you, Mistress.” What other thought could I have?
In the taxi I sat back, curling up against Mistress Atsumi as if were a child again. I felt so tired, my entire body ached. There was something else too; a small yearning to be back in my bed, dreaming once more with the drugs I’d been given. It was only a tiny thing though, the stirrings of an addiction I feared, and I tried to dismiss it. For her part, Mistress Atsumi largely ignored me, sitting upright and proper, staring straight ahead. Only her fingers betrayed any interest in me whatsoever, playing slowly at the large zipper between my breasts and occasionally cupping my boob.
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