I begged him again to stop, to pull out, I promised between gasps and groans I’d suck him I’d let him cum in my mouth. I’d even swallow his cum, which was something I’d never done, but I’d do it for him if he would only please, not cum in me. It was no use, his cock began jerking and as he held me tight I became aware of a flood of warmth filling my vagina. His cockhead was right up against my cervix and it actually might have felt really good, if I hadn’t been cringing and weeping with despair. I was ovulating; right in the middle of my cycle, two weeks from my next menses. His sperm filled me and he must have been saving it up, because there was a lot. When he finished he just got off me and dressed, not saying anything, opening his wallet he withdrew ten thousand yen, dropping the bills carelessly on the floor and leaving me there my pussy stretched and sore and leaking the guy’s sperm and I felt little incentive to move.
When I arrived back at work, late of course, there was a lot of smiling and bowing by the men, the women largely ignored me, but the guys were happy because I’d finally put out. The man who’d first propositioned me, Kenji, said me he wanted me the next day, numb and embarrassed I could only nod acceptance. It was humiliating to realize I’d basically become a part-time prostitute for the Fortune 500 company that I’d been so eager to join.
I filed a complaint with the VP of Human Resources back in the United States, not saying specifically what had happened, I couldn’t bring myself to do that, but generally informing him of the corporate policy regarding women in the Tokyo office. They replied that the company would look into the matter, but I never heard another word, the price of doing business in Japan was that the company could do whatever it wanted.
I was truly humiliated, especially when I went to a Japanese drug store to purchase a quantity of condoms and also to see a doctor and get back on the pill. I was more than a little unhappy, feeling like I was just giving up without a fight. But I needed the job and was 10,000 miles away from home. I was doing the only thing I could.
That first time I was raped for money I did in fact become pregnant, I also found out how easy it is to get an abortion in Japan. It took me three weeks to find out and I think I already knew even before I missed my period. I’d never been pregnant before and I’d grown up with the typical suburban American romance regarding the subject. I wanted it to be with a man I loved a man I was married to. Instead it was a man whom I barely knew and couldn’t even have an adequate conversation with, if I ever wanted to. I did write him a note, translating it into Japanese as best I could, and I gave it to him a few days after I found out.
He was paying to fuck, actually rape me again, during lunch. Before I undressed I handed the note to him, watching for his reaction he just wadded it up laughing and threw down. I was so offended I tried to slap him, but he stepped back and surprised me with a sharp punch to my stomach. The man, a division manager at our company, ripped off my panties as I lay crying and trying to breathe through the pain then fucked me, not bothering with a condom since it was obvious now that there was no need for one. As he was raping me pressed on my belly hard, then punched it perhaps trying to cause a miscarriage, I don’t know but the whole time just he just grinned and talked to me like I was a wayward child.
He didn’t cause a miscarriage and a week later one of the secretaries who spoke passable English told me she’d been assigned to take care of my problem whish obviously it wasn’t much of a secret around the office. She took me toa very small clinic that was conveniently located nearby, and I paid 23,000 yen for an abortion. It was fairly quick and painless physically, although inside I suffered terribly having been raised a catholic/ I knew abortion had to be wrong, but I also knew I could never keep the child. It was another all-time low in a whole series of lows.
Since the first time I had sex for money, I’d did it pretty much every day, except during my period and with the birth control pills my menses lasted only three days. Usually they were very light and Japanese men, some of them anyway, didn’t mind, so I often had sex on those days as well. The men who did mind were more than happy to shove their cock in my ass or down my throat, many just wanted to butt fuck me anyway. Before moving to Japan I only had had sex with 8 different men, now I was averaging that many a week. I had truly become a dump for Japanese cum.
In addition to being a prostitute during my lunch hour, I was initiated into the social responsibilities they expected to after normal working hours, usually when my bosses wanted to impress an executive or two from another corporation. Apparently it was a perverse point of honor to provide a pretty gaijin with big tits for his dinner guest’s pleasure. This was often accompanied by some of the most humiliating and degrading experiences I had experienced. If you can imagine it, sooner or later I performed it,
I do not know if these men, supposedly the cream of the Japanese business community, were actually into such perversions, or if they were just warped by the potential abuse of a white woman, something they deemed a genuine luxury. One of the first occasions, I had dressed very nicely was attempting to entertain a vice-president for a large Japanese bank. There were two dozen of us, 12 men and a female companion for each, at an exclusive and private rest house in Tokyo, dinner was provided, a bath house, and some bedrooms. Basically a place for Japanese men to take their mistresses and have all the comforts of home.
The other girls were all Japanese and I felt very alone and largely ignored, except when one of the men would eye me with very obvious sexual hunger. They didn’t bother disguising it and while my Japanese wasn’t very good, I knew enough of the vulgarities already to know when they were talking about me and the things they would like to do.
My corporate VP for Marketing Japan was the host and I naturally deferred to him, but he surprised me when after we’d eaten, or I should say the men had eaten, we females didn’t touch anything but our tea, the VP asked me if I was a ‘Milky Girl’. I tried to translate this, as many times what a Japanese person will say in English has a completely different meaning than what the words are. Other times it can be very literal. I’d never heard that term before so I lowered my head and tried to explain to him politely that I didn’t understand.
Well, it seems a ‘Milky Girl’ is a female with a sperm fetish. This was definitely not me, but I didn’t have very much choice. It was time for sex games, which the Japanese seem to love a great deal and rhis one was simple; all the Japanese girls began giving their dates blowjobs. I was a bit shocked at seeing these girls, all of them secretaries or minor executives, salary women like I was, bending eagerly, even happily to their tasks. I was not exactly thrilled at the thought of going down on the total stranger I was sitting next to, an older man of about 60 I thought, but I started to lower my head to his lap, only to have him push me away.
I didn’t know what was going on. I sat there; rather embarrassed as all around me women were sucking noisily away and the men talked like it was just another day in the lunchroom, laughing and commenting on the women’s techniques. When one man started to ejaculate, a large glass, like a goblet, was used to capture the sperm. This was done for every man there, except the VP I sat with. We just watched as the glass was passed around the table from girl to girl. It was filling rapidly; I didn’t really think men made that much sperm. I’d heard most guys cum just a few tablespoons, or something, but who knows? How many table spoons are in a wine goblet? Too many if you ask me.
All I know is that it looked positively gross. A glass full of 8…9…10 and finally 11 men’s ejaculate. It looked like about 12 ounces of ejaculate, with a thick gooey consistency, pale yellowish and I felt nauseated to see it. I didn’t have a sperm phobia or anything, but this was pretty far out there to my mind. I was in for an even greater surprise though when the glass was passed down until it was sitting in front of me like my desert or something, and there could be no doubt as to what they expected me to do with it.
I looked at my boss and he just nodded, telling me to drink it in Japanese. everyone was staring and many of the men and women were whispering and even giggling. I knew the women were all very glad that I was there, I had the feeling that a few of those girls had been in my position previously. I just stared at the glass for a moment and I felt my boss prodding me until I finally picked it up. I swirled it around a little and it was so gross, it seemed like cream that had gone bad. I could even distinguish between the different men in the glass; the ejaculate was almost layered, stratified by consistency. I looked around, which was a big mistake because seeing those people staring at me just made my face burn and tears of outrageous humiliation began to fill my eyes.
With a deep breath I brought the glass to my lips, smelling the very strong and pungent odor of male essence. It assaulted me physically, mentally, and worst of all, emotionally. I just wanted to crawl into a hole and die. But instead I tilted the glass and my mouth started to fill with lukewarm semen and I gagged at first, unable to force myself to swallow, I started crying, my cheeks bulging with sperm. My body was rebelling, my stomach churning, but somehow I managed to swallow. It was almost painful but I brought the glass to my lips and repeated the process slowly, taking perhaps 7 or 8 big swallows to get it all down.
I put the glass on the table and looked down, hoping desperately that I wouldn’t throw up. I held my stomach and didn’t move, just hiding behind closed eyes in that room with all those people. They were happy with me, laughing and even the girls were speaking gently to me, but I ignored them. I just couldn’t bear to face them, I’d just drank a big glass of sperm and I was going to throw up any minute, but somehow didn’t. I just sat there while the meal continued around me. the men enjoying sake and the girls finally allowed to eat small salads. When they put the bowl in front of me, the waitress poured a generous amount of bleu cheese dressing on it, much to my companions’ delight. I couldn’t eat it.
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