Chapter One: Suki

Once I was all cleaned up and ready, I presented myself to my Master.  Coming up beside his chair, I laid the coil of hemp rope on his lap and stood as he had taught me, my legs spread, my hands clasped together at the back of my neck.
He looked up from the baseball game he was watching on TV and smiled a tiger's smile.
I shivered inside, knowing what would now happen.
My Master reached up to touch my bare tummy, his fingers leaving burning tracks as he gently caressed the soft curve of my belly.  He traced the folds of my swelling pussy, spreading and tickling my furred slit, his middle two fingers finding and electric touching my emerging clitoris.  Then, bringing his hand to his nose he sniffed the wetness on his fingers and again smiled the smile I'd learned to love. And to fear.
I sighed and knelt beside his chair, seeking his fingers with my kissing lips.
He watched intently as I took and suckled his two middle fingers, drawing them deep into my wet mouth, my tongue flicking back and forth over them in a promise of better things to come.
With a wink and a mock scowl he turned off the baseball game and seemed give in.
I knew I would pay for my foolishness.  That was, after all, the whole idea.
"Come here and kneel at my feet." my Master ordered, shaking out the coil of prickly hemp.
I lowered my eyes and obeyed.  Within the prison of my self respect, my slave self stood in its chains, knowing its freedom was at hand.
I sat between his feet, my fingers interlaced behind my neck and watched in the reflection on the turned off TV as he tied two small hangman's nooses into the middle of his twenty foot rope.  Slipping the loops up over my thumbs, not tight together but with a two inch length of rope between them, he pulled the nooses tight and tied locking knots to keep me from working up any slack.  The remainder of the rope he tossed off to the sides, out of the way for the moment.
Holding the link between my thumbs with his left hand, he reached around and caressed my tight nipples, freeing the prisoner within me with every fluttering beat of my heart.
Wrapping the long ropes across my breasts, he began to tighten the trap, drawing my arms down toward the middle of my back and mashing my tender boobies at the same time.
Between my legs, my pussy throbbed, red and wet and ready.
Instead of taking me then, he sat back up, turned on the TV again, leaned back and took a sip of his beer.
I waited, my every breath, my every spasm felt in my mashed breasts.  It was as if the prickly hemp coils were his hands, his grip hurting me.
Between my legs my hunger for him raged.  I wanted to plead with him but knew better than to speak without permission.
The baseball game was only in its third inning, Tokyo three runs ahead of Nagasaki.  I knew I was in it deep.
I waited, the air around me becoming thick with my pheromones.
During the inning change commercial he repositioned me, forcing me to cow-tow at his feet in such a way that my rope mashed breasts were pressed into the carpet and my ass was high in the air.  As the game resumed he put his feet up on my butt and pretended to be paying attention to it and not to me.
I could not look back at him, but could smell how turned on he was.
I waited, knowing as did he that waiting made me even more horny.
During the seventh inning stretch he again changed my bondage.  Without releasing my thumbs, he had me sit up, unwrapped my burning breasts and took my hands down from behind my head.  When I tried to massage feeling back into my boobies he used the thumb nooses to drag my hands down to my ankles and then tied the ropes tight around them, leaving me in a tight ball of helpless woman flesh.
The rest of the game was only a background buzz to me.  I had other fish to fry.  My Master again used me as a foot stool, this time taking the liberty of gently toe fucking me during commercials.
When the last out was made, the TV switched off.  I was free now, free to enjoy my Master's full attention.
He leaned over and slid his thumb down across the opening of my wet and empty vulva, ending on my rock hard clit.
I jerked and moaned, needing him inside, needing his hot phallus.

Instead he again changed my bondage, passing the rope thumb cuffs under my feet and ass and drawing my hands high up between my shoulder blades.
My breasts, already tender from the first binding, burned all the hotter as the coils of hemp again took them in their prickly embrace. Soon my arms were welded to my back, thumbs noosed, wrists bound, breasts hostage to the ropes.
"Go to the bedroom, I will come in a moment." he said, helping me to my feet and patting me on the rump.
I staggered off, my cloud of fuck me scent following like the plume from a truck's exhaust.
He checked that the house was locked and the lights were off and followed me, his aching erection pointing the way.
When he entered the bedroom he found me cow-towing on the bed, my knees widely spread, my bottom facing the doorway.  He chuckled, coming over and touching me in a way that made me wiggle back against his hand.
He traced the lips of my swollen, red and throbbing sex, pleasuring me and feeding the lust we shared as you would feed a bonfire.
He opened his robe and drew my hips back on him, his hot cock aiming for my bulls-eye.
I held my breath in anticipation, feeling the heat of him long before his first electric touch.
Slowly, but surely he drove himself deep into my center, filling me and thrilling me and making me know of his need for me.
I clamped down on him and held him in the only embrace I had left, the embrace of my love muscle around his plunging pony.
He grunted in pleasure and began to grind out the mating dance, his hands reaching down to add their grip to that of the tight ropes around my breasts.
I was soon deep in my slave state, free to enjoy every precious nanosecond of our loving union, free to serve my Master's every need, free of the tight restraints imposed by our tradition bound world.
In the end, I was free to be Suki, sex slave deluxe.
 

Chapter Two: In Plain Sight

As the sun rises above the sleeping city I begin to know real panic.  My only garment this long night has been the darkness.  I know that, as soon as the fog burns off, I will be spotlighted here on the glass pedestrian bridge above Tokyo's busiest street.
I wish my Master didn't know me so well.
I have been here too long, but there is simply no way for me to ease the strain on my aching, burning, passion racked body.  I am fixed here, almost naked, my tongue, nipples and pussy held in chopstick clamps, my tightly folded legs spread wide by the ropes, my hands tied above my head.  The final two ties are what my Master calls grace notes.  The first is the rope that attaches my elbows to my hair, preventing me from looking around, the second is a loop he tied around the spike heels of my shoes.
I see the morning's first joggers moving along the river below.  I know that the path will soon be crowded with people.  And soon after that, this bridge will be filled with people on their way to work.
How long will it be before someone sees me?
How long before the cops arrive?  I wiggle and gasp as the four sets of chopsticks hold me in their merciless grip.  I feel another orgasm building within me and can do nothing to stop it happening.
Deserted by my Master several hours ago, I have been experiencing orgasms every twenty minutes or so all night long.
They seem to be a part of my punishment, or perhaps part of my reward.  I cannot stop them from happening.  I am not entirely sure I would, even if I could.
Trapped inside my chopstick sealed vulva is my Master's beeper.  Sealed inside a condom, set to vibrate rather than make noise, every so often my Master will call, usually triggering one of my orgasms.  The thing has been quiet since my last one but now it begins to thunder into life, massaging my g spot with its deeply penetrating power.
I begin to pant and wiggle in a passion dance I cannot control.
Outside, the morning fog is burning away, making my discovery a thing of absolute certainty.
I love my Master because he knows where my buttons are and how to push them.
I watch as the first man down on the river path begins to point up at me in shock and surprise.  Soon twenty people are pointing and shouting.  I see several of them pointing cameras, others using cell phones to call the authorities.  I hear a stampede of running footsteps coming up behind me.
My slave state takes charge and I begin to cum.
I am still cuming when the cop arrives.  He is a big, mean looking half caucasian brute with a nightstick in his hand.  I watch his eyes as he looks me over, taking in my helpless passion, my hopeless position.
He removes his uniform coat and drapes it around me, covering most of my nakedness but doing nothing to get me free.  He announces loudly to the people standing around.  "I'm going to leave her as she is for now, the evidence team will want to look her over and get some pictures before we take her to headquarters for questioning."
I try to object, but the chopsticks on my tongue prevent me from saying anything intelligible.  Inside I feel the beeper revving and rattling and feeling wonderful against my g spot.
I don't wonder at the coincidence of both my Master and this cop being Eurasian.  After 60 years of occupation by the Americans and the resultant interbreeding, there are lots of them around.
The cop stands behind me, telling the gathering crowd to move along but doing nothing else.  Under his coat, my body continues to sweat and convulse with passion, my clamped together labia dripping pheromone laden fuck-me juice into a puddle beneath me.
I see police cars gathering on the street below and know my ordeal is just begun.
Suddenly my Master is here, cutting my three tethers, my leg ropes and finally the cords binding my heels together.
Helping me to stand up on rubbery knees, he hustles me away, my arms still tied up over my head, down the back way as the cop clears a path and opens doors for us.  Slipping into my Master's car, we drive away, the cop sitting with me in the back seat now possessed of two nightsticks, the wooden one in his hand and the other one I see growing down his trouser leg.  He opens his uniform jacket from around my helpless body and begins to fondle me, my clamp adorned,  passionate, wet and ready body.
I begin to suspect he is not a real Policeman after all.
At the next traffic light my Master glances back, presses the speed dial button in his cell phone, causing the beeper within me to begin vibrating again, and says, "Suki, meet my half brother Takashi, you may call him Master as well."
 

Chapter three: Hemp Dragon

They called it riding the hemp dragon.  It is a good name for what they have done.  Like a dragon, the hemp takes and hordes.  Like a dragon, the hemp can fly.  Like a dragon the hemp breathes a kind of fire.
Two Masters think of things that one would not.  Two Masters don't add together, they multiply.
The hemp dragon is just such a thing.  It consists of the traditional Japanese arm and upper body tie, a tight cooze rope and a hook in the ceiling.  Not quite hanging, my knees just able to touch my Master's floor, I cannot escape, cannot withstand, cannot defend.
It has been like this since the day my two Masters brought me home from the glass bridge.  They seem to be competing to see who can make Suki the slave girl cum the hardest.  So far Master Aki is winning, but Master Takashi is learning fast.
The heavy rubber paddle in his hand is proof of that.  I watch him walking around my helpless body, watching me, judging when and where to strike.
Panting in passion, I try to stay balanced on my knees, supporting as much of my weight as the bondage will allow.  The only other alternative is the rope that splits my pussy, pinning my mashed and burning clit to my hip bone, stimulating me with every shuddering breath I take.
Using the cold rubber paddle, Master Takashi caresses my rope split behind, making me know how much it is going to hurt, how hot it will soon become.  He reaches down and grips my rope tortured breast, while at the same time tapping the stretched cooze rope lightly with the paddle.
Master Aki sits over in his recliner, watching his half brother work with a big happy grin on his face, offering advice, making helpful suggestions.
High within my vulva is my nearly constant companion, my Master's beeper, set on silent ring so that any time my Master wants, he can call up my g spot and give it a thrill.
Now, at a word from his brother, Master Aki presses my speed dial number, watching my reactions to see when the message will arrive.
Before it does, Master Takashi smacks my bottom, the heavy rubber paddle driving all other thoughts from my head, all other desires. My slave self accepts the pain as pleasure, rejoicing in my passion, riding the hemp dragon, to where I know not.

Chapter Four: Masquerade

There are two kinds of magic in masks.  There is the magic of wearing and there is the magic of seeing.
Being behind the mask you feel protected, concealed, under cover, despite the rest of your costume, or lack of it.
The dark, smoldering, whispered promises of my two Masters tell me that the magic out front is far stronger.
I wiggle and plead, as best I can with the tip of my tongue ringed up to my nose, using my best brave-little-slave-girl-needs-a-boink tone of wheedle.
But it gets me nowhere.  As Master Aki said, "We are going to this party, and that, my little slave slut, is that!"
Covering my face is a horned devil kabuki mask.  I am "dressed" in a deeply hooded, white, floor length, wool, winter cape which has been draped over a transparent white silk kimono, and under that, against my bare skin, I wear the traditional Japanese prickly hemp torso bondage, complete with a cooze rope and large, powerful internal vibrator.  With every move I make, the network of tight ropes stimulates my body, holding me in its painful embrace.  My ankles are closely hobbled, restricting me to a six inch step.
My two escorts are dressed as kabuki stage hands in black raw silk shrouds that cover them in the gauze of mystery and the guise of evil.  They stand on each side of me in the elevator, their hands gripping my body harness through slits in the cape.  The three of us are riding down to the parking garage where my Master's car awaits.
I have but two options, I can either scream or not.  If I scream, someone might call the cops.  I really don't want to talk with them right now, not after the glass bridge thing last week.  Bondage is one thing, jail is quite another.
The fact that it is well after midnight probably means that no one would hear anyway.  And then I would have made things even worse for myself. (Better?)
You can see how weird I get at times like this.  My higher brain functions get all confused and scrambled by the strident, horny demands of my hind brain.
While the rational part of me screams in silent protest, my two Masters walk me across the darkened parking garage.  It is so full of echoes and the shadows of nameless evil that were I not tightly restrained, I would be bolting in terror.
The effect of wearing a closed cape while sweating sex pheromones is that my own come-and-fuck-me smell concentrates up under my mask, making my rational self sit down and shut up.
I am placed in the back seat and one of my shrouded Masters gets in beside me as the other takes the driver's seat.  I realize that I have lost track of who is who.  There is not that much size difference in the two men and until one of them speaks I will have no idea who is caressing my silk covered nipples with a vibrator strapped to the back of his hand.
After two weeks of three way group groping both have adopted tricks from the other, making it impossible to tell that way.  My head is swimming with the smell of my own body, so there is no way I am going to tell by his scent.
Pleasure sweeps through my helpless body in waves, washing all my fears and cares away.
But damn it, it matters!  I need to know who is pleasuring me, don't I?  If I don't know who, how can I be faithful?  How can I give that last full measure of my passion?
My slave state comes and quiets the questions, replacing them with the mindless pleasures of the mating dance.
* * *
When I again become aware of things other my own pleasure, Takashi is speaking from his seat in the front, "We're almost there.  Is she ready?"
From inside the shroud beside me comes a woman's voice, speaking Japanese with an American accent.  "She is just coming down from her fourth orgasm, she should be perfect."
I panic, knowing the one sitting next to me is neither of my Masters for the first time.  When had they made the switch?  Who is this American woman who has just pleasured me so well, so knowingly?
The car pulls down into another parking garage.  I have no idea where we might be, other than it must be in Tokyo.  Helping me out of the car, my escorts again take grips on my body harness and hobble me forward, taking me toward an elevator.  As I stumble along I see other caped forms being brought out of cars.  All are, as far as I can see, dressed exactly as I am dressed.  All are masked, all are escorted by "Stage Hands" dressed in black silk shrouds.
This should be quite a party! I think, hobbling forward a little faster than my escorts require.

Chapter Five: The Dark

In both meanings of the word, my two Masters have left me in the dark.  I have been lying here, helpless, awaiting the return of light for what seems like hours.  But the physical darkness is child's play compared with the fantasy filled psycho-dark that fills my head with images as I lie here, wondering where this might go.
With my two Masters it might go anywhere.
In some ways I consider myself the luckiest submissive in Tokyo.  My Masters are exactly what I came looking to find.  They understand exactly what I need and they give it to me exactly as I need it.
While my bondage is always strict and inescapable, it almost always succeeds in setting my inner slave free.
Tonight, for example, I lie here in the dark, my hands tied up behind my back, my pussy split and sealed with prickly hemp, my ankles spread and tied up to two posts, preventing me from rolling over to ease the pain in my chopstick clamped nipples.
I have tried everything I can think to ease the burning in my nubbins but the chopsticks will not budge.  The pain is like twin candle flames in the dark, like twin branding irons burning their way into my breasts.  The straw matting beneath me catches the at ends of the sticks and tugs against my tortured nipples with every wiggle I make, with every breath I take.
I resolve to lie still but the twin cooze ropes will not let me.  They too, burn with promise, They too stimulate and inflame my helpless passion.
I haven't cum as yet but know it is a thing of the near future.  I dread what will happen but know that when it does I will be feeling no pain.
On the movie screen of my mind I visualize my two Masters.  Both are large and exotic looking men, the non-identical twin sons of two American sailors and a B-girl from Yokohama.  Both men are gifted Masters, having a shared sixth sense about what I need and when to give it to me.
I remember the glass bridge and how I felt when the first jogger began pointing up at me.
I remember the way Master Takashi first looked at me, my body wracked with blatantly exposed passion, his authoritarian eyes hard and glinting from under his bushy brows.
I think about my Master Aki and how sweet he can be, seeming to be reading my mind as he pleasures me.
I wiggle my butt in the darkness, feeling the bondage as if their hands were still upon me.  My hips begin to lift, dragging my tortured nipples across the straw mat, my need for fucking so urgent I do not feel the pain as pain, rather as the most intense of pleasures.  I stick my ass high in the air, begging the darkness to fill me, to take what is offered.
The paddle, when it comes, is a total surprise.  The only warning I have before its impact against my up-thrust bottom is the sound of it whistling through the air.  I have no time to prepare, no time to brace myself.  The heavy drilled rubber hits my ass and rope split pussy like a baseball bat, lifting my knees from the straw matting, balancing me, for a instant, on my face, shoulders and the upper ends of the chopsticks on my nipples.
I scream out in pain, shock and surprise.  I had thought myself alone, I had thought my sufferings private.  Instead, I find that there is someone in the room with me, someone who can see in the dark, someone armed with my favorite paddle.
I gulp and shudder, my passion like a wild thing within me, barely under control.  I remain as I am, my ass presented, eagerly awaiting another blow, ready for it this time, ready to cum when it comes.  But the second blow does not come.  Instead I feel a hand caressing my burning pussy, harvesting my juices, tickling my swollen and supersensitive labia, my rope pinched and aching clitoris.
I dance in helpless frustration, pleading with my unknown tormentor, needing so much more.
The hand reaches beneath me and touches the exposed ends of my nipple clamps, making my tortured breasts burn beneath me.  At the same time, another hand drags a set of long fingernails down between my ass cheeks, down across my shaved and aching pussy.
Neither of my Masters has long nails so I think it must be the same woman who escorted me to the masquerade party.  The mystery woman.  The one who revealed my most secret secret to both me and to the world.  The faceless red haired American who awakened the bisexual side of me that I had not known existed.  The one who's pussy tasted like strawberries and cream.  The only one at that party who did not unmask at dawn.
I remember how she made me cum, how she seemed to know before I did what I needed, what my heart desired, for what my hind brain lusted.
I plead and wiggle in my bondage, hanging by a thread, not quite able to cum, but so close.
The hand beneath me pulls the exposed chopsticks together, twisting my clamped nipples about sixty degrees.  The hand behind me leaves and seconds later the paddle returns, striking down from above, once, twice, three times, setting off my orgasm at long last.
When awareness comes again it is because I am being fucked like a slave slut, someone's hot cock splitting the cooze ropes and filling my emptiness with purest pleasure.
The darkness is full of stars that seem to swirl around me as I descend into my passion state.
 

Chapter Six: Macrame

My bondage is tight tonight.  It is always tight.  I insist.  But tonight it is tighter.
At first I doubted this red headed American nurse friend of my Masters could satisfy my needs completely.  I mean, she's so old, and she hasn't got a cock or anything, right?  I figured it would be great fun and all but in the end I knew I would have to go to one of my Masters for the final act.
It is amazing how wrong I can be sometimes.
Lady Lynx of Ohio has conquered Suki of Tokyo, body and soul.
She owns me, controls me, flies me like a kite, drives me like an ox, pleasures me, takes care of me.  She is my Nurse, my Mistress, my Lover. I will obey.
She tells me I cannot cum, under any circumstances.  It is the worst thing anyone has ever done to me.  And so, of course. I'm loving every incredible, stretched out nanosecond of it.
There is a word for what I have become.   The word is Slut.  There are several relevant adjectives as well, such as Slave, Pain, and Pleasure.  I am all of those things, plus a few more in the same vein.  To tell the truth, I don't really care what words they use, only that my adventures continue.
I started out seeking only a Master who would fulfill my dark fantasies, a man who would understand and act upon the desires I did not understand, a man who would love me and protect me and punish me as I deserved to be punished.  A man who would restrain me and thus free me of my mind forged manacles of puritan reserve.
Master Aki is that Master.  And as he grew to know me, he grew to know my every fantasy.  Knowing my mind, he has enslaved my body and with that, my very soul.  And with his ownership has come the most wonderful, exciting, pleasure filled year of my life.
I too have grown into my part.  The Suki I was a year ago was nearly bolting in panic that first night, when she interrupted her new Master's baseball game.
That Suki thought she wanted painless restraint only.  Master Aki knew better.    Now, I find the bite of the hemp, the slap of a paddle, the whistle of a crop to be the most exciting things in my world, baring the sound of a zipper being lowered.
That other Suki also thought she was looking for one good Master.  Then, with my Master's guidance, I found out how much fun being double teamed could be.  Then had come the masquerade party and I'd discovered the pleasures of group groping, not to mention  the thrills of serving a Mistress.
In the past year I have learned to love sex in all its wonder, to accept the pain even when it is most painful, to find the golden apple in the midst of the pain, to know that the pain is the prize.
 

Like right now for instance, I am riding yet another Hemp Dragon.  Only this time it is more like a hemp chainsaw.
Lady Lynx has fixed me up in a macrame ass sling that suspends my hips a foot above her mattress.  I am entirely helpless, my arms and legs tightly bound so as to be out of the way, only my shoulders and the back of my head resting on the silken sheets of my captor's bed.
When I watched her pulling the tangled thing from her suitcase I thought it might be a gift she wanted to give me.  At first it looked like something you'd use to hang up a potted plant.
I should have known better.
It feels like I am being cut in two, the knotted rope pulling into my nearly naked groin supporting most of my weight, my clit mashed, my asshole hosting a large monkey fist knot that forces me to keep my tightly folded legs well spread.  Stuffed out of sight up within my pussy is a large and powerful g spot vibrator.  In short, I am helplessly presented to whatever this strange woman might care to do to or for me.
The crop in her hands frightens me almost as much as the glint in her eye.  And of course with fear comes passion.  And with passion anything is possible.
Only I have been ordered not to cum without permission.
My Mistress kneels, bends and touches her lips to mine, kissing me one last time before getting down to business.
I watch in wide eyed anticipation as she moves to squat over my face, bringing her strawberries and cream smelling pussy down onto my mouth like an oxygen mask.
The first gentle touch of the crop to my rope split labia makes me begin my assigned task.  I slide my tongue high into her, finding her as wet as I, as hot as I, as passionate as I.  I rim her, nibbling at her labia, suckling her erect and diamond hard clitoris, nearly biting it as she strikes the crop down between my legs the first time.
I need to cum, would cum but that I have been ordered not to.  I feel the pressure building within me, the need for release.  Yet I hang on, holding myself back, restraining my libido as the macrame sling restrains my body.
The cracker on the American's crop bites my inner thigh, close enough to my rope split pussy as to make no difference.  Pinned to my hip bone, my clit grows hard as steel, a tiny blood-blister of sensations too painful to be called pleasure, too pleasurable to be called pain.
I scream in helpless frustration, trying not to cum, inflating the visiting American's vulva, setting myself up, two seconds later, for the mother of all pussy farts.
Still, my Mistress does not give me permission to cum.
Again and again, the crop comes and leaves its mark, each overlapping square of pinking flesh adding to the general bonfire of my restrained lust.  Pressed over my mouth, the woman's pussy fills my head with her musk, her desire for me.
I worship her opening as she whips mine, each of us on a quest, each of us nearing a crest.
Suddenly, there is nothing more I can do.  Despite my every effort the Cum comes, juicing from my dildo stuffed pussy like water from a mountain spring.
My Mistress growls in approval and falls to her knees, sealing her sex over my mouth, pressing her anus to my nose, pulling my hips up so she can loosen the sling and begin harvesting my spurting pussy juice with her tongue.
Having no way to see, breathe or even struggle, I pass into a wonderland of intense sensations.  The sudden release of the knotted rope pressing against my clitoris makes it feel at first skinned, then as the American's lips begin to suckle, boiled.   I buck and fight my tight bondage, my orgasm the only thing that exists for me.
* * *
I awaken receiving the kiss of life, still hung up in my Mistress's sling, the knotted cooze rope again holding the vibrator deep within my vulva.
Standing behind my new Mistress are my Masters, Aki and Takashi.  I look up, my eyes dialated still gasping for air, lick my lips and say, "Next?"
 

Chapter Seven: Switched

I walk around Master Aki's birthday gift, wondering if I will like it so much, once I'm fixed to it.  It is made of wrought iron.  It looks like a cross between a bar stool, a witch's chair and a plant stand.  There is a small butt plug equipped metal saddle and there are four cuffs and a collar to secure me in place.  The butt plug is attached to a jack beneath the seat so that it can be raised or lowered at the operator's will.  I can see that sitting on this thing will be a trial and that it will present my body to all and sundry.
I put up a brave front, aware that my two Masters are watching my reaction.  "For me?" I ask, trying and failing to keep the tremble out my voice.
"Who else?" asks Master Aki, his dark eyes aglitter.
I stand before the thing, marveling at the workmanship, shuddering with suppressed desire/fear/anticipation/lust.  Despite being fresh from my bath, I get a whiff of my musky "lets fuck" scent.  Even if part of me wants to make a break for it, I am aware that another part can't wait to climb up onto the thing and take it for a test ride.
Master Takashi asks, "Don't you want to know what I got you for your birthday?"
I drag my eyes away from the black iron contraption and look searchingly into my other Master's teasing face.
Seeing the flush in my cheeks, Takashi snorts and says, "Maybe I should wait and give it to you later.  Right now, you seem eager to try out Aki's invention."
I lower my eyes in modesty and say, "You are my Master, it is for you to decide."
"Well then," Takashi teases, "I guess now is the best time for you to see my present.  Go look in that closet."
I walk over, aware of how my high heels make my bare bottom wiggle, and slide open the mirrored closet door.  The first thing that hits me is a cloud of strawberries and cream fuck me scent.  Standing inside, her hands clasped together behind her neck, wearing the same shoes, stockings, garters, waist cinching corset and opera length gloves outfit that I wear, is a hoodwinked woman.  A woman whom I instantly recognize from her scent and red pussy hair as Lady Lynx.
I feel the churning of desire in my belly, remembering the last time my American Mistress visited Tokyo.
But now, instead of being costumed as a dominate, here she is, hoodwinked, helpless to see, speak or defend herself.
"Step out here Lynx," Takashi says, "and Suki will help you up onto Aki's latest invention.  You two will have the honor of being the first to try it out."
Lynx takes two tentative steps forward, feeling her way with outstretched hands.
I take her hand and squeeze it, needing to know she is ok with this crazy plan of my Masters.
From inside the hoodwink I hear the nasal humming that tells me Lynx is wearing a ball gag.  I see that the leather hoodwink is padlocked around her throat.
I marvel at how hot this makes me, how juicy I suddenly get.  Do my Masters know something even I did not know?  Do I want to switch roles and be a Mistress?  Can I do that?
I look from Master Aki's grinning face to Takashi's.  "I get to top Lady Lynx?" I ask, wanting to be sure I understand.
"Only if you want to." chuckles Master Aki, taking a seat in his recliner and opening a beer.  "We'll be here to lend a hand and offer advice if you need it."
I feel a blush of lust sweep up my body, a tremor of anticipation.  "This way, subbie." I hear myself saying, as I lead the American woman over to the contraption.
In a few seconds it is done, my former owner, my Mistress, is fastened to the framework at throat, wrists and ankles.  Skewered on the top two inches of the butt plug, her body is positioned perfectly for what ever I care to do to/for her.
I caress her, not surprised to find her already sweating and trembling with lust.  I know I would be, in that rig.  I suckle her already hardening nipples, evoking muffled hums of urgent pleading from behind the gag ball, within the leather hoodwink.  I worm my two middle fingers into her creaming vulva, gently searching for her g spot, my thumbnail lightly caressing her clit at the same time.  I use my grip on her sex to lift her bottom from the seat, sliding the butt plug's greasy, tapered point in and out of her clenching anus.  While I have her up, I give the jack handle a couple of pumps, raising it another inch, then lowering her back down so that her asshole gets stretched twice as wide before her bottom finds support.
I kneel between her legs and begin to kiss her pussy, sliding my tongue high into her vulva, harvesting her juices and wringing gag garbled pleas of encouragement from my captive.
From behind me I hear Takashi ask, "Lady Lynx, would you care for a tit and pussy cropping from Suki?"
Lady Lynx doesn't answer, doesn't need to, her gushing pussy does it for her.  I pull my face away, strings of her juice hanging across the widening gap.  I say, "How would you like it if I hung you up from your titties and then used the crop on them?"
Again the fuck me froth gushes from the woman's vagina, answering my question.
I get up and walk to the equipment wall where I select a coil of white cotton clothes line.  Returning to my captive, I begin wrapping her big bouncers in the rope, bringing them together and making them balloon out as the loops tighten.
Trapped out in the wrist restraints, Lynx's hands clench and tug, not so much for release, I understand, but to better feel the helplessness.

When I am done she is suspended by her boobies, panting with the effects of her passion and already nearly orgasmic.  I take the riding crop from Master Aki and trace it over her nipples, watching as they throb in time with her heartbeats.  I lightly tap the right one, making Lynx jerk and dance on the butt skewer, her body suddenly drenched in fuck-sweat, her labia blushing crimson, her clit coming out to play.
I trace the crop across to her other nipple, caressing it up to match its sister.  Pausing to pink her cleavage, I then stop, step back and watch as she writhes in ten breath held seconds of helpless anticipation, before smacking it down hard against her inner thigh, making a noise like a small caliber pistol shot in the quiet room.
Lynx erupts, bouncing her ass on the skewer, fighting the hold the cuffs have on her wrists and ankles, choking herself with the collar, screaming in gag blocked passion.  She is having so much fun I feel jealous, so I work out my feelings by giving my captive everything I will want, when it is my turn to ride Master Aki's invention.
 

Chapter Eight: Game Night

I stand before Master Aki in what has come to be my uniform, high heels, stockings, garters, a waist cincher and goose-bumps.  Following my Master's instructions, I have my fingers interlaced over the top of my head and my feet planted fully eighteen inches apart.
Master Aki is dressed in black leather, a sure sign he intends to do some serious brain fucking.
I rejoice, feeling my tummy churn with anticipation.
For more than a year I have been a sex slave to two half American, half Japanese men.  I love the way they seem to be able to read my mind, sometimes knowing what I want before I do.
Perhaps it is because they are fraternal twin half brothers.  Perhaps because they've always been together, even in their mother's womb, they somehow learned to read each others minds.  Perhaps once you learn to do that with one person, its easier to do it with others.  Whatever the reason, the fact is they have both learned to read me like a book.
And for the last year or so its been pretty much a fuck book.
Not that I mind.  I love the things we three have done, the games we have played, the passion we have shared.  Not to mention the passionate adventures I've had with various friends, sceners and even, on one occasion, a street full of muggins.
Master Aki steps up behind me and begins lacing a wide, stiff leather collar around my throat.  When the laces are tied and tucked I find that my head movements are restricted, my chin held high and to the front, preventing me from looking either around or down at my own body.
He blows softly against the back of my ear and I shudder as his hands come and cradle my breasts, his thumbs and forefingers catching and rolling my nipples, enticing them to pucker up even tighter than they are.  I spread my feet an inch or two wider, lean back against his broad, leather covered chest and wiggle my hips in a wordless invitation to his wandering hands.
The hands stay where they are but I begin to feel something hard hot and delicious drilling into my backside.  I sigh happily and press back against him, against his stiff and ready organ, trapping it between my bottom cheeks and his hard, flat belly.  I flex my knees slightly, so as to masturbate him, gripping his organ between my tightly clenched buttocks, wanting him to want me as much as I want him.
Finally, his right hand slides down my front and takes possession of my pussy, gripping it and holding me still for a moment, now slipping his two middle fingers up into me and squeezing so hard that I cream all over his palm.  Slowly now, so that I might anticipate it longer, he brings his pussy juice covered hand up and smears the upper slopes of my breasts with my own lets fuck scent.
As if in a trance, I stand and let him put my arms into a red leather arm sheath that he laces from my fingers to my biceps, before strapping it up to my shoulders, thus making my arms totally useless to me and making me feel about ten times as naked and vulnerable as before.

Again my Master steps up close behind me, his hands spreading pleasure over my helpless body, his words whispered softly into my ear, "Suki my love slave, now would you like to visit America?"
"Really?" I squeal, forgetting I have been ordered to remain silent.  America has always been my dream.
Master Aki swats my ass sharply, using his cupped palm so that it makes more noise than pain, reminding me I am under discipline.
I still the thousand questions in my head and resume my submissive, silent stance, hoping he will tell me more.
Instead, he takes my right nipple in a painful pinch and uses it to force me to turn around and kneel before him.
Taking his cock between my lips, I nibble-tease him for a few seconds before I suck him deep into my mouth, eager to please him, eager to share my raging passion with him.

After a period of time that, for all I know, could be as short as two minutes or as long as twenty, Aki grips my ears and pulls his cock out of my mouth.
Bending down over me, he kisses me on the lips, takes possession of my aching nipples and uses them to force me to stand up and walk forward toward the bed.
Soon I am kneeling on the mattress, my sleeved arms attached up to the hook in the ceiling behind my back, my ankles tied to the sides of the bed frame so that I cannot close myself to anything.
Some game nights I never actually get fucked, as such.  Instead I will be toyed with, driven to distraction, teased, dildoed, butt plugged, paddled, cropped and sometimes flogged through uncountable orgasms, yet never know the sweet fulfilling feeling of a hot cock within the grip of my hungry vulva.
Please understand, I like those nights fine, but I am glad to see that tonight isn't going to be like that.  I can tell by the way Master Aki is getting ready to mount the bed behind my presented ass, his big half American cock so hard it seems to be glowing.
Being restrained, there is nothing I can do at this point.  Nothing save hang here, bent, presented, open and hopeful.
Aki's hands come and grip my hips, pulling me back against the hot, throbbing samurai sword of his cock.  My throat held stiff by the collar, I am restrained from looking back at him.  But I know how he looks at moments like these.  Think of the old woodcuts of the determined samurai warriors, about to give their lives for their Emperor.
Only Aki has a better plan.
His big curved cock slides into me, stretching me wide and making me gasp with pleasure.  He begins fucking me slowly, patiently, as if he is in no hurry whatsoever.  I do all I can to encourage him to speed up a little but he just continues to grind away in a slow and very thorough manner, as if orgasm isn't even on his agenda.
Takashi, just coming in from work, drops by the game room to see how we are doing.
Aki just keeps up his slow grind, his cock plowing my furrow as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Kneeling in a bent over position, my small but sensitive breasts dangle beneath me.  Master Takashi watches them swaying back and forth for a while then asks, "How about it Suki, think nipple clamps will help things along?"
Aki says nothing verbal but the message I get from his cock is one of suddenly surging passion.
Having been ordered to be silent, I cannot answer Takashi with words, so I just look up at him in mute appeal, hoping he will read my mind.
Takashi walks to the equipment wall in search of nipple clamps.
Aki continues his slow sensuous grind, as if he were intending to keep it up all night.
I pray that he does.
Takashi returns with a single pair of chopsticks and three strong rubber bands.
I watch in impatience as he uses one rubber band to fasten the two thin bamboo sticks together in the middle, then can watch no more as his hands disappear in under me, where my stiff collar will not let me see.
I feel first one nipple then the other being pinched and held as the two remaining rubber bands are stretched around the ends of the chopsticks, trapping my nipples and connecting them at the same time.
Aki groans and pauses, his hard cock deep within my clutching vulva.
Takashi tugs on the chopsticks, convincing himself and me that they will not come loose.  He then clamps what feels like a clothes pin on my hanging, blood engorged clitoris and leaves it swinging between my legs.
I feel my love muscle milking Master Aki and wish I had two vulvas so I could fuck both of them at the same time.
Reading my mind, Takashi stands before me and grips my ears in the oldest of all forms of embrace.
I open wide, so hot now that my pinched nipples and clit are simple background pleasures.  I feel his organ sliding into my mouth, his bishop's hat already dripping his pre-cum, his man-scent speaking directly to my hind brain.
I begin to suck on him, using the same slow, tireless grind Master Aki is using behind me.
As always, there comes a sense of linkup, a feeling of completeness, a feeling of being a conduit between my two Masters.
Time seems to melt and then flow away, leaving the three of us to drift weightlessly through a sensual garden of stimulations, pleasures and gifts.
The Aki-Suki-Takashi beast has four balls, three backs, two cocks and one purpose.
Life is grand, ain't it?
 

Chapter Nine: Diabolical

It is the worst torture I've ever known.  The bondage is complete yet invisible.  The pain is not so much physical as mental.  The whole thing is so diabolical that I bet it took both of them to think it up.
To the casual eye, I appear to be a Japanese businesswoman, traveling first class with two Eurasian businessmen.  All three of us are dressed in Brooks Brothers business suits, mine tailored for my figure and with a knee length skirt.  Each of my Masters is carrying a laptop computer.  Using these, they will have me totally under their control every second of our flight to America.
You see, beneath my suit, I am hosting a pair of heavy duty, vibrating, electrode studded dildos, held in place by the cooze rope of the traditional Japanese body tie.  The dildos are radio linked to both of my Masters' computers, so that, if I want to avoid the vibrators going up to full power, the pain/pleasure voltage coursing through my pussy, the only place I can be is between them.
The first hard part is going to be getting through the metal detector at the airport.
I walk along, trying so hard to cope with just the bulk of my twin, presently inert, dildos, approaching the metal detectors, knowing I will probably not be getting through without a strip search.  The thought of explaining why I am wearing a hemp teddy and two vibrating dildos is the worst torture my Masters have yet devised.
As expected, the beeper sounds as I pass through the sensor, making every head within hearing turn in sudden fear.  A large fat man in a security uniform steps up and says, "Do you have anything metal in your pockets or on your person?" as he begins sweeping his wand down my front.  As the wand nears my waist it squeals and suddenly I see three other goons moving toward me, two of them large, determined looking females.
With shaking hands I pass over the fake note I have from my fictitious surgeon. explaining that I have a replacement hip.  The fat guy reads it then says, "Please come with us quietly madam, it will be necessary to check the validity of this note before you will be allowed on to the airplane.
I dare not look at my Masters as I am taken away, the dildos getting more powerful, more insistent with every step I take away from their two transmitters.
As the soundproof door closes behind me the buzzing in my crotch gets so loud it can be heard in the sudden quiet.
Guns are drawn, fear twists faces that had been bored only a few seconds ago into masks of terror.  "What is making that buzzing noise?"  Demands the fat man, his Glock pointed between my eyes.
I am so hot now that thinking is not my strongest suit but even I can see the jig is up, see how I am scaring them more even than they scare me.  And they are scaring me so bad I'm about to have an orgasm.  Panting from the combined effects, I fumble open my suit coat and white silk blouse to expose the rope enmeshed upper half of my body, I say,  "Please don't shoot!  Its just a pair of vibrating dildos.  Its only a prank my Masters have pulled on me."
The two strong women grab my arms and hold them as the fat man kneels and slides two hands up my thighs, lifting my skirt, exposing my dildo stretched pussy to his gaze, to his exploring fingers.  Looking up into my face he asks, "How do I know these aren't explosives?"  He grips both the exposed dildo stubs and squeezes them together, giving me yet another unexpected thrill.  "Well, blow me, they do make you explode, don't they?"  The fat face splits into a grin and says, "This is quite a prank your Masters have pulled . . And so this is another one . . . Suki . . . Have a real fun trip to America."
Just as the orgasm comes flooding up out of my pussy, I figure out where I have heard this man's voice before.  He was one of my favorite tops the night of the masquerade party last year.  The party at the Tokyo Moll Flanders club.
As I stagger back to my grinning Masters, and their transmitting laptops now sitting in the boarding lounge, I finally feel the power in the dildos diminishing within me.
Like I said, its diabolical.
I guess that's why I stay with them.  They know what I want, what I need.
My next adventure is going to be during take-off, when all electronic devices will have to be switched off.
And what about American Customs?
I did say diabolical didn't I?  It is the perfect word for it.
Oh, there's the boarding call.
I wish I wasn't already stinking with lets-fuck musk.
 

Chapter Ten: North Beach

When we finally get through customs Mistress Lynx is waiting, a big Welcome To America grin on her face.  Exhausted from the long, passion filled flight, I am nearly staggering, barely able to keep up with my two Masters and their all controlling computers.
Not once during the long flight did they let me forget the twin dildos in my belly.  Strapped to my seat between them, my hands voice shackled to the arm rests, I had to sit there, watching them typing commands that were being radio linked to the two robotic cocks inside of me.  It was like a kind of cyber chess game, only in this game the object was not to take the King but to force the Queen to cum . . . and cum and cum again.
I am sure that at least one of the stewards knew what was happening to me, he certainly leered as if he did anyway.
Canned and re-circulated, the air inside that airplane soon began to stink like a whore house as my pheromone laden sex signals triggered everyone else's unthinking response.  I bet there were more hard cocks than soft on that plane.  It was certain that the natives were mighty restless.
Lady Lynx hugs and kisses us all, her knowing look telling me she knows exactly what I have been doing for the last eight hours.  Then leading the way, she takes us to where she has her car parked.  As we drive into San Francisco she talks of how most of the American clubs have booked our show and how much money we will be making at every stop.
It is the first I hear of the reason for out visit to America.  I take the information in, but do not process it, being simply too pooped to think.
Later, after a bath and ten hours of sweet, dream-filled sleep, I wake up with a start, finding myself in bed with Lynx, a chain shackled to my ankle.
"Shows?"  I say, the thought making my tummy flip-flop.
Lady Lynx wakes up, smiles, and in her accented Japanese, says, "Yes, Suki darling, we four are going to tour all the Moll Flanders clubs in North America, starting right here in North Beach and going all the way around to Port Townsend.  Twenty one clubs so far."
"You are going to display me to audiences?"  I ask, knowing it is a dream coming true.
"And make some videos." she chuckled, watching my blush rise, my nipples perking.
"Videos?"
"Sure, Moll Flanders makes half her money with her scene videos.  They are considered the best available."
I look at the shackle on my ankle, trying to remember when my Mistress locked it onto me.  "I need to pee, is this chain long enough to let me reach the toilet?" I say, looking around the bedroom for the first time.
"Sure, the toilet is right in there.  You can reach it just fine, and the tub as well if you want another bath."
Because Moll and her slave jenny are out of town for a few days, they have let us stay at their place upstairs over the world famous North Beach BDSM club.  I feel like I have been here before, then realize it is because several of Master Aki's favorite videos have been filmed right here in this room.
* * *
Just as I am returning to the bedroom, toweling off after my quick bath, the door opens and my two Masters come walking in, carrying trays of hot, strange smelling food.  "Black coffee, scrambled eggs, hotcakes and sausage," says Master Takashi, pouring the coffee. "an American lumberjack breakfast for four."
Talk about mind reading.
* * *
After breakfast we go on a tour of the city, taking in all the tourist points, taking about twenty rolls of pictures of ourselves standing in front of the Golden Gate, Alcatraz the signal tower, the Lombard street hill, The China Town gateway, a cable car, and of course Fisherman's Warf.
That task completed, we get down to the business of pleasure.
In the next half day I find out that my Mistress, Lady Lynx, is a talent scout for Moll Flanders Inc, the biggest BDSM name in the world.
After reading about the Glass Bridge prank she came to Japan and began nosing around, trying to track down the submissive who'd had a string of orgasms while being displayed to half of Tokyo.
Caring more than the cops, she succeeded where they had failed.
Contacting my Masters, she'd told them who she was and asked them if they wanted to go into show business.
And so here we are, two Masters, a Mistress and one very submissive submissive, me.
They tell me that the standard MFI contract pays us each one million American dollars, with a residual on the videos that will double that in three years or less.
I would have done it for free, but no-one asked me.