I suppose, many of the Japanese men present wanted to see the American woman whipping the girl and while I can’t say for certain who had bought the crop, it did eventually end up in my inexperienced hands. Of course, I’d never done anything like that in my life and as I took the crop and swished it through the air, I was reasonably sure it would be very painful to be struck with it. The woman, a hostess dressed in black leather from head to toe, chained the girl to a pair of rings hanging by chains from the ceiling. She wasn’t gentle, but the girl made no sound and she soon stood with her arms spread high above her head. Her back was to me and much of the audience as well/ The hostess beckoned me onto the stage and told me to begin. That was the extent of my instructions and I swallowed hard, feeling nervous and more than a little self-conscious. I gave the girl a few strokes across her wonderfully pert ass, gentle ones because I had no interest in hurting anyone, least of all a girl so much smaller than myself.
The Japanese men watching were not happy with that however, and began urging me with loud voices to really hit her. I whipped the girl a little harder, but not very much. It just wasn’t in me to do that sort of thing. After a few minutes the girl looked over her shoulder impatiently, as if to ask me when I was going to start and I blushed and lowered my eyes.
My whole performance lasted less than ten minutes and I was feeling uncomfortable and even foolish as the hostess took her crop back. I started to leave the stage, but my boss stood up and suggested in a loud, humorous voice that perhaps the girl should whip me instead. It was hard for me to follow all of his Japanese, but I understood his intentions and so did everyone else. All around me Japanese salarymen laughed and clapped their hands, nodding excitedly to one another.
The hostess looked at me with some contempt and it seemed obvious to me that she was a very strong-willed person, a Dominatrix by temperament if not only by choice. I thought her exceedingly beautiful, as many Japanese bargirls and hostesses must be, and though I was slightly taller, the woman made me feel small by comparison and this was new for me. I’d grown very yielding to my superiors at work, but with strangers and especially the Japanese women I met away from the office, I was normally confident and perhaps arrogant with my background and education. Meek personalities don’t graduate Harvard Business School after all, but I wilted beneath her dark presence and the Dominatrix literally grabbed my jaw in her gloved fingers, turning my face so that she could stare into my eyes.
“Do you wish to be punished?” she demanded and I tried to look at my boss before I answered, but she held my head tight, pinching my cheeks with her thumb and fingers painfully.
I could hear him, even if I couldn’t see him, telling the hostess that it was alright because I worked for him. I would do what I was told, and there was more laughter. I really didn’t want this to happen and a knot of fear cramped my stomach. The Japanese woman holding me was strikingly beautiful, as I mentioned, and despite her attitude and stern countenance, her lustrous brown eyes seemed warm, almost comforting somehow, and perhaps that was why I agreed to it. I thought she would ensure that I wouldn’t be hurt. I wasn’t a professional BDSM model or whatever they call those people. I was an American, a junior executive, and innocent of such things as this. She couldn’t possibly hurt me, I thought.
Another girl, attractive and definitely young enough to still be in her teens, entered the stage dressed in a small, red bikini which seemed oddly out of place at that moment. She released the girl I was supposed to have whipped and then the two of them helped me undress while the hostess watched. I looked around, taking a deep, self-conscious breath because of the three dozen or so men in that place. I only knew three of them, and really only one – the company vice-president that I worked for. I was soon completely naked in a roomful of strangers and I could hear them talking about me, generally praising my body, but occasionally the odd Anglophobe would call me a cow or a fat pig. I tried to ignore everything as I was fitted with a stiff leather collar and then leather cuffs around my wrists, fastened with silver buckles.
I had thought they might bind me the way the girl had been, just handcuffed to the rings in the ceiling, but instead my arms were brought behind my back, bent at the elbows so my arms pressed painfully upward against my spine. It hurt a lot as my shoulders were stretched and my arms twisted so that my joints screamed with sharp protest. I didn’t know a person’s arms could even bend that way and I was trembling and fighting for each ragged breath I took. They fastened my wrists to a large ring on the back of the collar. I had to arch my back just to ease pressure on my shoulders and this pushed my breasts out further, which seemed exactly what my captors desired.
My legs were spread slightly wider than my hips and my ankles cuffed and chained to small rings in the floor of the stage. They were hinged so that they could lay flat in in D-shaped recesses when not in use and I hadn’t noticed them before. The girl in the bikini fitted my mouth with a ball gag, which I didn’t like at all, and I shook my head, saying that no, I didn’t want to be gagged. I was afraid that if I was hurt or something I wouldn’t be able to make them stop, or even yell for help. I had no idea what they intended to do with me. This was a totally new experience and I quickly realized that I’d gotten into something over my head right from the beginning. The girls paid little attention to my refusals and turning my head this way and that did me little good as they proceeded to gag me with expert efficiency.
The gag was a red rubber ball attached to a thin, leather harness of some sort. It wasn’t hard, but firm and surprisingly soft, and very large as well. The device was quickly pressed behind my teeth, depressing my tongue so that my mouth seemed filled completely with it. My protests were immediately muted and muffled and I could breathe only through my nose as the gag was tightened and buckled behind my head. Being bound and gagged like filled me with a strange sense of claustrophobia, although I was standing in the center of the wide open stage.
I felt my heart pounding with excitement and fear and realized with some shock that part of me actually enjoyed this new experience. My senses seemed to become heightened with fear and excitement, everything was interesting to me and I was curious as to why and how I found myself becoming aroused. This seemed a forbidden thing, something darkly romantic, if you can imagine it, and that vague impression only fed my confusion. I didn’t understand what I was feeling. If someone had asked before that evening what I thought about being a BDSM submissive, I’d have said no way. I’d never do it, but at that moment I felt the butterflies in my stomach and not because I wanted them to stop.
Finally a chain was lowered from the ceiling and connected to the ring at the back of my collar. It was pulled taut, just enough to give me the sensation of pressure, but not enough to lift me off my feet. I stood there, bound helplessly, gagged, and uncertain of what was going to happen. The two girls had spoken not at all while they’d prepared me and they left the stage wordlessly, the one in the bikini giving me a smile and the other a small frown, neither of which offered any reassurance. The hostess played with my breasts first, which I found both stimulating and humiliating. I’d never had anything to do with another woman not even the playful exploration so many teenage girls share. I knew I wasn’t lesbian or even bisexual, not in the least, but here was this beautiful Japanese woman stroking my breasts, talking to me softly and telling me it was going to be okay, and I couldn’t deny that I enjoyed her attentions.
She knew I was excited and I had no choice but to watch her face while the Dominatrix taunted me with her hands. My bonds kept me upright, with my chin lifted and my back arched. My boobs thrust out and up with my shoulders pulled back, likewise my ass was put on vulgar display by the forced tilt of my hips. I felt like an object presented for the lusty approval of the men who watched us so intently. The woman teased me with her fingers, caressing the tops of my breasts and smiling at the dark arousal of my nipples, swollen and stiff and when she flicked them with her gloved fingertips, I couldn’t refuse her the muffled moan that issued low in my throat. My body became flushed and damp with sweat, and goose bumps broke out across my skin my nipples throbbing and burning ice cold and I shivered beneath her gentle hands.
The Dominatrix moved her hands down my body slowly. They were encased to the elbows in skin-tight black leather, buttery soft gloves that felt like nothing else I’d ever felt before as they moved down my stomach and around my waist, petting and soothing me until she found my slit. I’d grown wet by then and we both knew it. I wanted to close my eyes in shame but didn’t dare as she held me with her gaze, licking her crimson lips as her fingers slid down and across my slit. I jerked at the sensation and trembled as she worked her fingers between my swollen labia my clit a fiery point of desire and I rocked my hips in an effort to find her hand with it, but she denied me with a soft laugh.
I blinked rapidly my eyes moist, I was panting beneath the gag and growing lightheaded as I tried to get the air I needed through my nose, heart racing and lungs labor under what seemed a crushing weight. The woman massaged my vulva, splitting the lips and staring intently into my eyes as she pushed a finger slowly inside me. I felt my pussy spasm and the walls of my vagina clasped her digit eagerly, nursing at that small penetration and hungry for more. A second later she began to caress my stiff little clit with her thumb, the sensation making my knees weak and my body tremble with a rush of pleasure. I don’t think I’d ever gotten so excited so quickly in my life. I didn’t know what was going on, whether it was because of the woman, because I was bound, because of the men watching, or a combination of all those things. I only knew she was going to make me cum in just a few agonizing seconds if she didn’t stop playing with my clit.
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