tkl-pen
1st Level Orange Feather
- Joined
- Dec 30, 2001
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THE JAPANESE CHRONICLES – VOLUME ONE
KEIKO SAKURA
What a great day it had been! Since it was Friday, Keiko and two of her girl friends had gone out for dinner after work and spent the evening dancing in several of the clubs around Roppongi Square, one of the hottest entertainment areas in Tokyo. It was fun, even though they danced mostly with each other as girls in Japan often did, but eleven o’clock came all too soon and it was time to go home.
Keiko was a beautiful Japanese girl, twenty four years of age, pretty face with deep brown eyes, long black hair, five foot four inches in height. When it became dark after dinner, Keiko and her two friends slipped into the washroom at the restaurant and changed into their dancing outfits. She had brought along one of her favorites, a little mock nursing costume that was made of shiny leather. It had a little leather hat with a pink cross on it; a shiny black leather top that covered her torso and breasts with straps over her shoulders, a zipper on the back and pink crosses on the breasts; and a matching short skirt made of the same shiny black leather. She had completed the sexy little outfit with fishnet stocking and thick-soled, high-heeled black leather shoes.
The three girls, Keiko, Sayako and Miki, had decided to take a taxi home to Saitama, one of the major residential areas of Tokyo, so that they wouldn’t have to find a place to change back into their street clothes to take the train. By sharing the cost of the taxi, it would not be too expensive.
“Who was that older man who was dancing with you, Keiko,” asked Miki.
“I don’t know,” she said, “he was a businessman, I think, and I don’t think he was Japanese even though he spoke the language and acted like he was.”
“I saw him looking at you from his table for some time,” said Sayako, “and his eyes never left you when you were on the dance floor.”
“Well, maybe he liked my nursing costume,” she said, “many men are turned on by a girl in a nursing outfit.”
“You know what, Keiko,” said Miki, “maybe it wasn’t your outfit he was looking at.”
“I hardly think so,” she said, “you two are prettier than me.”
“Yeah, right,” said Sayako, “I saw him send one of the waiters over to the deejay with some money and a few minutes later, when the slow dance music started, he came over to ask you for a dance.”
“What was he like, Keiko,” asked Miki.
“He was very nice, a real gentleman,” said Keiko, “he offered me his arm as we went out to the dance floor, held me like a real ballroom dancer and took the lead as if he had known me for a long time. He was really powerful, both physically and personally.”
Sayako and Mika gave Keiko their share of the money for the fare and got out of the taxi. They lived very close to each other and Keiko had to travel another six or seven blocks to her own apartment. She would then pay the taxi driver, when he stopped the car on the main street a little more than a block from her apartment building, which was in a narrower, darker street. While she was paying the driver, Keiko did not notice the black BMW sedan enter the street on which she lived and come to a stop about a hundred feet in from the main road.
As Keiko walked into the little side street, she passed the black BMW and she wondered why someone would park a car like that on a dark little side street in the Saitama area. She surmised that the owner must be visiting one of her neighbors. But after passing the car, Keiko heard a noise from the front of the BMW, a noise that many cars make when the doors are locked by remote control, and instinctively she turned to look.
When she turned, a moist cloth was suddenly placed over her mouth and nose by someone who held her from behind. Instinctively, she tried to struggle against the powerful hold she was in and the man who held her leaned back slightly, lifting her feet only barely off the ground. She wanted to scream but the cloth over her mouth prevented that. She had never imagined anyone could be so strong as to hold her like a little doll and chloroform her. It only took a few seconds for Keiko to black out.
She awakened to find herself being lifted out of the black BMW and carried over the man’s shoulder into his house. She could see that it was a big house set on a large property among gardens.
“Let me go,” she cried, as she started to kick her legs.
“Quiet,” said the man, as he gave her a hard slap across her ass.
“Ow,” she said, “that hurts.”
“Then behave yourself.”
The man carried Keiko into a ground level door into the house and into a dark room. Keiko nearly panicked when he turned on the lights and she saw that he had brought her into a large, well-equipped torture chamber. She noticed a lot of the devices that were designed to restrain a woman in the most vulnerable positions imaginable.
He carried Keiko to a leather clad vertical pole, some eight inches in diameter, which had a seat similar to a Japanese torture horse but not sharp at the top attached horizontally. He lowered her to the seat, placing one leg on each side of it, with her back to the post. She tried to resist him but he was so strong that it was to no avail.
“No, please, what are you doing?”
The man said nothing as he lifted her right arm over hear head and fastened it into a leather wrist cuff. Then, he lifted and secured her left arm in the same way. Keiko tried to kick him but he made sure that he was off to the side and with the leather seat between her legs she couldn’t get enough leverage to reach him. In fact, the leather seat between her legs prevented almost all movement, even though her legs were completely free.
“Well, what have we here,” he asked as he approached her face.
“Let me go, please,” she pleaded.
“Let you go? Why would I do that?” he asked, “You wanted to go out and play tonight. Now you’ll have the chance to do that.”
“I want to go home,” she said.
“Aw,” he taunted, “and I wanted you to spend the night here with me.”
“No, I want to go home.”
“So tell me,” he asked, looking into her eyes, “are you ticklish?”
Ever so gently, he stroked his finger across the naked skin above the waist line of her skirt. Keiko tried to move away from his finger and made a little mewing noise. He stroked her finger across her collar bones and into the little hollow at the front of her neck. She again tried to move and made the little mewing noise.
“Please, don’t,” said Keiko, “please let me go.”
“We are going to have so much fun, you and I,” he taunted.
He lightly stroked her finger through her right armpit as she tried to move to the left to get away from his touch. She could only go so far, though, since the leather seat between her legs kept her right leg in place. He moved his finger down to the back of her right thigh and stroked it lightly causing Keiko to lift her right leg.
“Yes, now I see, you are really ticklish.”
“Please stop.”
“Do you feel the leather of this seat between your legs as it caresses your inner thighs and your pussy with every movement? You are going to be so aroused when we get started with some real tickling.”
“No, please, I don’t want to.”
“You just wait there while I go get a few things, okay?”
As he left the room, Keiko threw her head back against the leather clad pole and tried to move into a more comfortable position on the leather seat between her legs. It was an ingenious design. Her entire weight was on her crotch since her feet could only barely touch the ground with the thick soles of her shoes. She tried to move from side to side but no matter which way she went, her legs were held onto the sensual leather sides of the seat and her crotch stayed right on top of it.
“Here we are,” he said, as he came back into the room carrying several cans of Coke, “I’m sure you must be thirsty.”
He opened one of the cans, placed a straw into the opening and brought it to her lips. She turned her face away.
“Now, don’t be like that. You are a guest in my house and it’s only proper that I offer you something to drink. You’re going to get a lot thirstier when we get started so you really should take a sip or two.”
Keiko turned to the straw and opened her lips, still perfectly made up with her bright red lipstick, to sip through the plastic reed.
“There you go. Now, doesn’t that feel better?”
“Please don’t hurt me, sir.”
“Of course not! I would never hurt you,” he said, as he checked the black leather restraints on her wrists above her head, “but I am going to have some fun with you. You’re really secured, aren’t you? This is going to be like torture for you.”
“What is your name?”
“Go to hell, I’m not telling you.”
“Ah, defiance. I love defiance in a beautiful girl. Tell me, are you familiar with calligraphy?”
“Yes, of course, I took it in school.”
“Perhaps you will remember the fude, the calligraphy brush, that you used in your courses,” he said, as he lifted one of the pointed brush-tipped pens into view, “like this one.”
He started to brush the pen over the end of her nose, back and forth, even to the inside of her nostrils, holding her face in his powerful hand.
“Aaaaah, pffffffft,” she mewled and blew the air out through her nose as she felt the soft hairs of the brush tickling her nose. She struggled as best she could, pulling down on her arms and moving her hips back and forth over the leather of the seat between her legs.
For five minutes he tickled nothing but Keiko’s nose as she struggled, mewled and complained. He moved around behind her and gently stroked her hair, forming a silky soft, black cascade behind her. She couldn’t see what he was doing behind her, of course.
“Aaaaaah, no,” she cried, as she felt two of the calligraphy brushes in her ears, “Not my eaheeheeheers!”
Keiko tried to throw her head back so that her ears would be covered by her arms which were on both sides of her head. Having anticipated that, though, he had placed a small leather pillow behind her head to prevent that very movement. For another five minutes, he continued to tickle her ears, slowly running the long pointed bristles of the calligraphy pen over the entire length of her ears, carefully working the hairs inside and through the hollows down to the very lobes of her ears. As she tried to turn her head from side to side, there was no respite, since he was tickling both ears at the same time. She tightly squeezed her thighs together against the leather sides of the seat she was on to try somehow to get some leverage to move her head backward. But, alas, it was to no avail.
“Do you like to be tickled,” he asked as he started tracing the brush tip of one of the pens over her cheeks.
“No, please stop!”
“Why don’t you like to be tickled?”
“Because it tickles, that’s why!”
“Aaaaah,” she cried, as he started brushing the fine tip of the fude over her lips, “stohohohop!”
“So, then, what is your name?”
“Keiko, please stohop, it’s Keiko!”
“Hello, Keiko, I’m so pleased to meet you.”
“Pffffft,” she went, as he continued to tickle her lips and again went back to her nose.
All told, the man tickled Keiko’s face with his calligraphy brushes for half an hour. She was already glowing with perspiration from her struggles.
“Okay, Keiko, it’s time for a sip from your Coke.”
This time, she didn’t turn her head away. She thankfully sipped the Coke through the straw as she kept her dark brown eyes firmly fixed on his. A somewhat handsome and articulate man in his fifties, she was amazed at his patience and the focus he had on what he was doing. She knew he wasn’t going to let her go anywhere until he was ready and she realized that nobody would be able to hear her if she screamed for help. Even so, she also felt deep inside herself that his man was not going to hurt her and she wasn’t even afraid of that.
He placed the nearly empty can of Coke back down on a table, along with his own, and moved into place behind her. She felt him gently lift the little leather nurse’s cap from her head, stroke her hair and place a leather strap around her forehead. Her head was now held firmly against the leather clad pole and she could no longer bend it forward.
“Aaaaah, noooooo,” she cried, as he started to stroke the fude under her chin and along her throat. She tried to struggle and move her head but the only part that moved was her crotch over the leather seat.
“Nohoho, heeheehee,” she cried as he continued to work in long strokes from her chin down to the base of her neck, sometimes upward, sometimes downward, sometimes over the middle, sometimes along the tendons on the side. It was maddening to have that calligraphy brush stroked relentlessly over her exposed, out-stretched neck while her head was firmly held in place.
From her neck he moved down to her collar bones, carefully moving the brush from her neck to her shoulders in slow, agonizingly intentional strokes along the top and the bottom of her collar bones. Ever few strokes, he would bring the tip of the brush back along her throat up to her chin. By the time he finished, the man had spent an entire hour tickle torturing her face, her neck and her collar bones. He removed the leather restraint from her head and returned it to the table from which he had obtained it.
“I have to pee,” she told him.
“Now that might be a problem for you,” he said, “in your present position.”
“You’ll have to untie me now, or I’ll piss all over your torture machine.”
“Perhaps not,” he said, as he removed a pin from the pole at the level of the leather seat, and lowered the seat away from her genitals, leaving her standing with her back to the pole and her arms over her head.
“Did you want your panties on or off when you pee,” he asked as he reached beneath her shiny black leather skirt and took hold of both sides of her panties.
“This can’t be happening to me,” she said, “they need to go down, of course, but where will I pee?”
“Right in this basin,” he said, as he pulled her panties down to her ankles and pushed a narrow stainless steel basin between her legs, “I’ll hold this and you can piss in it.”
“This is embarrassing,” she said, as she closed her eyes and let herself go.”
“There,” he said, after the flow stopped. He set the stainless container on a table nearby and opened a moist towelette.
“What are you going to do with that?”
“I’m going to wipe you off and then put your panties back.”
“Noooo, this is so unbelievable,” she complained as he wiped her entire genital area with the moist towelette and pulled her panties back into place beneath her skirt. He lifted the leather seat back up between her legs and replaced the pin in its position to hold it.
“It seems to me, Keiko, that these shoes must be uncomfortable for you by now,” he said, as he knelt down beside her left leg, “and it’s rude to wear your shoes into someone’s house anyway.”
As Keiko complained, the man unbuckled both of the straps on her high heeled leather shoes and removed them in a spectacularly slow and sensual manner. She had never felt so vulnerable without her shoes as she did at this moment. He then fastened leather ankle restraints onto her legs and clipped them together below the leather seat. Now, her whole weight was on the seat since she couldn’t even reach the floor with the tips of her toes. He lovingly stroked her small, stocking clad feet in his powerful hands, being careful not to tickle her. He bent down and kissed her toes, livingly, longingly and passionately, causing her to wince and gasp. She had not expected him to do that, nor to feel the sensations he triggered.
“Now then, Keiko, where shall we go next?”
With her breathing, still deep from the sensation of having her toes kissed by the man, her stomach moved in and out quite markedly.
“I know,” he said, as he rolled down the waistline of her skirt and rolled up the bottom of her leather top, “let’s try your tummy for a while.”
“Aaaah, nohohoooo, pleaheeheese,” Keiko cried and giggled.
He started by moving the fude brush along the top of the skirt, right where the waist line had been. Then he moved it along the bottom edge of her top. He worked the brush all over her tummy and her sides, taking the utmost of care not to touch her belly button. Then, after some twenty minutes, Keiko howled with laughter as she felt the first stroke of the fude in her navel. The tears flowed down her cheeks as she laughed and cried at the same time, helplessly squirming in her bonds, while the tickling of her stomach continued for an entire hour. By the time he stopped, she was a sweaty mess of a girl with her long hair matted on her tear stained face, her body glistening with her sweat and her most intimate parts moist with the fluids of her excitement.
“My God, what are you doing to me?”
“Why, I’m just having a little fun with you. Since you are a guest in my home, it is only proper that I should entertain you.”
“You’re turning me on, don’t you know that?”
“Oh, come now, you mean to tell me that a little tickling like this is arousing you already?”
“A little tickling? It’s been hours already! That thing between my legs is driving me crazy. Every time I move even a little, it rubs me down there.”
“I see,” he said, as he brought the can of Coke to her lips, “so you’re not going to like it when I tickle under your arms then, are you?”
“Nooo, God, please don’t! I’m so ticklish in there.”
“Oh, Keiko, that’s so sad,” he said, as he returned the now empty Coke can to the table.”
“Aaaah, nooooo,” she cried, bucking up and down on the leather seat between her legs, as he tickled her armpits. He kept tickling her underarms without respite for an entire hour as the sweating, straining girl fought the restraints that held her so perfectly. Her head fell forward onto her chest in exhaustion when he finally stopped. It took several minutes for her to catch her breath.
“Wow,” he said, “I’m tired already. But there are so many places that we still need to explore.”
“No, please stop now,” she pleaded.
“You know I can’t do that, Keiko,” he said, as he reached around behind her back and unzipped her leather top. He then cut through the shoulder straps with a small knife, being careful to do so at the seams so that it could be easily repaired. He gently took hold of the top edge of the garment, above Keiko’s breasts, and peeled it forward to expose them. Keiko bit her lip.
“Are your breasts ticklish, Keiko?”
“I don’t know. Nobody has ever tried to tickle them.”
“Oh, God,” she cried, inhaling deeply, as he kissed her nipples, “please, what are you doing to me?”
He kissed her nipples tenderly and passionately, biting them lightly, while Keiko threw back her head against the pole as the sensations coursed through her nervous system to her brain.
“Aaaaah, oooooh, shihihihit,” she cried as he tickled her aching breasts with both of the fude brushes, making large circles around each breast and working them in ever decreasing circles up to the areolas and then finally to her nipples. She tried to turn her body from side to side to relieve the sensations but nothing helped. She screamed as he suddenly removed the rest of the top from her and the entire upper half of her body was naked.
“Hahahahahahaaa,” she laughed, as he moved in behind her and tickled her ribs and her sides, every so often moving up to her armpits, while she struggled with all of her might in his powerful hands.
Keiko was terribly exhausted but didn’t even realize it as he continued to tickle her for another hour. He opened another can of Coke and let her sip through the straw again.
“I have to pee again,” said Keiko.
The man unfastened the clip between her ankle cuffs and lowered the leather seat again so that she could stand on her toes. Without her high heels and thick soles, the only part of her that could touch the floor was the tips of her toes. He reached under her skirt and pulled down her panties, held the container in place for her, allowed her to piss, wiped her clean with a towelette and pulled up her panties.
“What are you doing,” cried Keiko in surprise as he pulled down the zipper behind her skirt, pulled it down her legs and lifted her to remove it over hear feet.
“I am removing your skirt, of course, you can see that.”
After he clipped her ankle cuffs together again underneath the seat, he started to tickle the back of her thighs with her fingers, wiggling them lightly all over the surfaces of her stockings. Keiko giggled and laughed as he tickled her legs, struggling and moving all over the leather seat of the device she was fastened upon. No part of her legs was spared as he moved from the back of her thighs to her knees, her calves, back up to her thighs and finally the cheeks of her ass where they protruded from her panties. She squeezed her thighs tightly against the sides of the leather seat on which she sat since her pussy was now soaking wet with the juices of her arousal. She hoped it wasn’t showing through her panties.
“Now comes the best part of all, Keiko,” he said, as he unclipped the ankle restraints, peeled her stockings down over her feet to remove them, pulled her ankles back behind the pole and refastened the clip, “are your feet ticklish?”
“No, aah, no, please, not my feet,” she pleaded, struggling against her bonds with everything she had, bouncing up and down on the leather seat, now totally off balance with her ankles and feet on the other side of the pole behind her.
The man brought forth a wheeled stool of the sort used in doctor’s and dentist’s offices. He picked up his two calligraphy brushes and wheeled the stool to a point behind the post where, by nature of her position, the soles of Keiko’s feet were facing him.
“Aaaaah, nooooooooo,” she screamed and laughed as she felt the brushes start to work on the soles of her feet. He started with her toes, working the fude in and around each toe and through the hollows underneath. Over the course of an hour, he moved the brushes to the insteps and arches of her feet, paying particular attention to the little crease in the balls of her feet and the lines created by the wrinkles when she flexed her toes. Keiko was in a world of agony as the tickling went on and on and on.
Finally, he stopped tickling her feet. He unclipped her ankles and lowered them gently so that they wouldn’t fall and injury the exhausted girl. She simply hung in the wrist restraints since she didn’t even have the energy to point her toes and touch the floor. He removed her panties which were now drenched with sweat and the juices of her arousal.
“Look how wet you are,” he said, as he held her panties up and smelled them, inhaling the aroma of her most intimate juices deeply. Keiko opened her eyes to look and let her eyelids fall shut again.
Holding her carefully, he unfastened the wrist restraints and lifted the exhausted girl off the leather seat into his arms. He carried her to the large bath in another room and bathed her carefully, gently and thoroughly with a large sponge, shampooed her long black hair, held her in his arms for a long time, then dried her off. He carried her up to his bedroom and gently lowered her into the soft, cool satin sheets of his bed. He allowed the beautiful, naked young girl to sleep in his arms the rest of the night and most of the following day. While he was awake by noon, she continued to sleep until four o’clock.
When she stepped into a car he had provided for her, with a driver, the man gave her an envelope. On the way home, she found ten thousand dollars (or at least the Japanese equivalent) and a card with a telephone number when she looked in the envelope.
KEIKO SAKURA
What a great day it had been! Since it was Friday, Keiko and two of her girl friends had gone out for dinner after work and spent the evening dancing in several of the clubs around Roppongi Square, one of the hottest entertainment areas in Tokyo. It was fun, even though they danced mostly with each other as girls in Japan often did, but eleven o’clock came all too soon and it was time to go home.
Keiko was a beautiful Japanese girl, twenty four years of age, pretty face with deep brown eyes, long black hair, five foot four inches in height. When it became dark after dinner, Keiko and her two friends slipped into the washroom at the restaurant and changed into their dancing outfits. She had brought along one of her favorites, a little mock nursing costume that was made of shiny leather. It had a little leather hat with a pink cross on it; a shiny black leather top that covered her torso and breasts with straps over her shoulders, a zipper on the back and pink crosses on the breasts; and a matching short skirt made of the same shiny black leather. She had completed the sexy little outfit with fishnet stocking and thick-soled, high-heeled black leather shoes.
The three girls, Keiko, Sayako and Miki, had decided to take a taxi home to Saitama, one of the major residential areas of Tokyo, so that they wouldn’t have to find a place to change back into their street clothes to take the train. By sharing the cost of the taxi, it would not be too expensive.
“Who was that older man who was dancing with you, Keiko,” asked Miki.
“I don’t know,” she said, “he was a businessman, I think, and I don’t think he was Japanese even though he spoke the language and acted like he was.”
“I saw him looking at you from his table for some time,” said Sayako, “and his eyes never left you when you were on the dance floor.”
“Well, maybe he liked my nursing costume,” she said, “many men are turned on by a girl in a nursing outfit.”
“You know what, Keiko,” said Miki, “maybe it wasn’t your outfit he was looking at.”
“I hardly think so,” she said, “you two are prettier than me.”
“Yeah, right,” said Sayako, “I saw him send one of the waiters over to the deejay with some money and a few minutes later, when the slow dance music started, he came over to ask you for a dance.”
“What was he like, Keiko,” asked Miki.
“He was very nice, a real gentleman,” said Keiko, “he offered me his arm as we went out to the dance floor, held me like a real ballroom dancer and took the lead as if he had known me for a long time. He was really powerful, both physically and personally.”
Sayako and Mika gave Keiko their share of the money for the fare and got out of the taxi. They lived very close to each other and Keiko had to travel another six or seven blocks to her own apartment. She would then pay the taxi driver, when he stopped the car on the main street a little more than a block from her apartment building, which was in a narrower, darker street. While she was paying the driver, Keiko did not notice the black BMW sedan enter the street on which she lived and come to a stop about a hundred feet in from the main road.
As Keiko walked into the little side street, she passed the black BMW and she wondered why someone would park a car like that on a dark little side street in the Saitama area. She surmised that the owner must be visiting one of her neighbors. But after passing the car, Keiko heard a noise from the front of the BMW, a noise that many cars make when the doors are locked by remote control, and instinctively she turned to look.
When she turned, a moist cloth was suddenly placed over her mouth and nose by someone who held her from behind. Instinctively, she tried to struggle against the powerful hold she was in and the man who held her leaned back slightly, lifting her feet only barely off the ground. She wanted to scream but the cloth over her mouth prevented that. She had never imagined anyone could be so strong as to hold her like a little doll and chloroform her. It only took a few seconds for Keiko to black out.
She awakened to find herself being lifted out of the black BMW and carried over the man’s shoulder into his house. She could see that it was a big house set on a large property among gardens.
“Let me go,” she cried, as she started to kick her legs.
“Quiet,” said the man, as he gave her a hard slap across her ass.
“Ow,” she said, “that hurts.”
“Then behave yourself.”
The man carried Keiko into a ground level door into the house and into a dark room. Keiko nearly panicked when he turned on the lights and she saw that he had brought her into a large, well-equipped torture chamber. She noticed a lot of the devices that were designed to restrain a woman in the most vulnerable positions imaginable.
He carried Keiko to a leather clad vertical pole, some eight inches in diameter, which had a seat similar to a Japanese torture horse but not sharp at the top attached horizontally. He lowered her to the seat, placing one leg on each side of it, with her back to the post. She tried to resist him but he was so strong that it was to no avail.
“No, please, what are you doing?”
The man said nothing as he lifted her right arm over hear head and fastened it into a leather wrist cuff. Then, he lifted and secured her left arm in the same way. Keiko tried to kick him but he made sure that he was off to the side and with the leather seat between her legs she couldn’t get enough leverage to reach him. In fact, the leather seat between her legs prevented almost all movement, even though her legs were completely free.
“Well, what have we here,” he asked as he approached her face.
“Let me go, please,” she pleaded.
“Let you go? Why would I do that?” he asked, “You wanted to go out and play tonight. Now you’ll have the chance to do that.”
“I want to go home,” she said.
“Aw,” he taunted, “and I wanted you to spend the night here with me.”
“No, I want to go home.”
“So tell me,” he asked, looking into her eyes, “are you ticklish?”
Ever so gently, he stroked his finger across the naked skin above the waist line of her skirt. Keiko tried to move away from his finger and made a little mewing noise. He stroked her finger across her collar bones and into the little hollow at the front of her neck. She again tried to move and made the little mewing noise.
“Please, don’t,” said Keiko, “please let me go.”
“We are going to have so much fun, you and I,” he taunted.
He lightly stroked her finger through her right armpit as she tried to move to the left to get away from his touch. She could only go so far, though, since the leather seat between her legs kept her right leg in place. He moved his finger down to the back of her right thigh and stroked it lightly causing Keiko to lift her right leg.
“Yes, now I see, you are really ticklish.”
“Please stop.”
“Do you feel the leather of this seat between your legs as it caresses your inner thighs and your pussy with every movement? You are going to be so aroused when we get started with some real tickling.”
“No, please, I don’t want to.”
“You just wait there while I go get a few things, okay?”
As he left the room, Keiko threw her head back against the leather clad pole and tried to move into a more comfortable position on the leather seat between her legs. It was an ingenious design. Her entire weight was on her crotch since her feet could only barely touch the ground with the thick soles of her shoes. She tried to move from side to side but no matter which way she went, her legs were held onto the sensual leather sides of the seat and her crotch stayed right on top of it.
“Here we are,” he said, as he came back into the room carrying several cans of Coke, “I’m sure you must be thirsty.”
He opened one of the cans, placed a straw into the opening and brought it to her lips. She turned her face away.
“Now, don’t be like that. You are a guest in my house and it’s only proper that I offer you something to drink. You’re going to get a lot thirstier when we get started so you really should take a sip or two.”
Keiko turned to the straw and opened her lips, still perfectly made up with her bright red lipstick, to sip through the plastic reed.
“There you go. Now, doesn’t that feel better?”
“Please don’t hurt me, sir.”
“Of course not! I would never hurt you,” he said, as he checked the black leather restraints on her wrists above her head, “but I am going to have some fun with you. You’re really secured, aren’t you? This is going to be like torture for you.”
“What is your name?”
“Go to hell, I’m not telling you.”
“Ah, defiance. I love defiance in a beautiful girl. Tell me, are you familiar with calligraphy?”
“Yes, of course, I took it in school.”
“Perhaps you will remember the fude, the calligraphy brush, that you used in your courses,” he said, as he lifted one of the pointed brush-tipped pens into view, “like this one.”
He started to brush the pen over the end of her nose, back and forth, even to the inside of her nostrils, holding her face in his powerful hand.
“Aaaaah, pffffffft,” she mewled and blew the air out through her nose as she felt the soft hairs of the brush tickling her nose. She struggled as best she could, pulling down on her arms and moving her hips back and forth over the leather of the seat between her legs.
For five minutes he tickled nothing but Keiko’s nose as she struggled, mewled and complained. He moved around behind her and gently stroked her hair, forming a silky soft, black cascade behind her. She couldn’t see what he was doing behind her, of course.
“Aaaaaah, no,” she cried, as she felt two of the calligraphy brushes in her ears, “Not my eaheeheeheers!”
Keiko tried to throw her head back so that her ears would be covered by her arms which were on both sides of her head. Having anticipated that, though, he had placed a small leather pillow behind her head to prevent that very movement. For another five minutes, he continued to tickle her ears, slowly running the long pointed bristles of the calligraphy pen over the entire length of her ears, carefully working the hairs inside and through the hollows down to the very lobes of her ears. As she tried to turn her head from side to side, there was no respite, since he was tickling both ears at the same time. She tightly squeezed her thighs together against the leather sides of the seat she was on to try somehow to get some leverage to move her head backward. But, alas, it was to no avail.
“Do you like to be tickled,” he asked as he started tracing the brush tip of one of the pens over her cheeks.
“No, please stop!”
“Why don’t you like to be tickled?”
“Because it tickles, that’s why!”
“Aaaaah,” she cried, as he started brushing the fine tip of the fude over her lips, “stohohohop!”
“So, then, what is your name?”
“Keiko, please stohop, it’s Keiko!”
“Hello, Keiko, I’m so pleased to meet you.”
“Pffffft,” she went, as he continued to tickle her lips and again went back to her nose.
All told, the man tickled Keiko’s face with his calligraphy brushes for half an hour. She was already glowing with perspiration from her struggles.
“Okay, Keiko, it’s time for a sip from your Coke.”
This time, she didn’t turn her head away. She thankfully sipped the Coke through the straw as she kept her dark brown eyes firmly fixed on his. A somewhat handsome and articulate man in his fifties, she was amazed at his patience and the focus he had on what he was doing. She knew he wasn’t going to let her go anywhere until he was ready and she realized that nobody would be able to hear her if she screamed for help. Even so, she also felt deep inside herself that his man was not going to hurt her and she wasn’t even afraid of that.
He placed the nearly empty can of Coke back down on a table, along with his own, and moved into place behind her. She felt him gently lift the little leather nurse’s cap from her head, stroke her hair and place a leather strap around her forehead. Her head was now held firmly against the leather clad pole and she could no longer bend it forward.
“Aaaaah, noooooo,” she cried, as he started to stroke the fude under her chin and along her throat. She tried to struggle and move her head but the only part that moved was her crotch over the leather seat.
“Nohoho, heeheehee,” she cried as he continued to work in long strokes from her chin down to the base of her neck, sometimes upward, sometimes downward, sometimes over the middle, sometimes along the tendons on the side. It was maddening to have that calligraphy brush stroked relentlessly over her exposed, out-stretched neck while her head was firmly held in place.
From her neck he moved down to her collar bones, carefully moving the brush from her neck to her shoulders in slow, agonizingly intentional strokes along the top and the bottom of her collar bones. Ever few strokes, he would bring the tip of the brush back along her throat up to her chin. By the time he finished, the man had spent an entire hour tickle torturing her face, her neck and her collar bones. He removed the leather restraint from her head and returned it to the table from which he had obtained it.
“I have to pee,” she told him.
“Now that might be a problem for you,” he said, “in your present position.”
“You’ll have to untie me now, or I’ll piss all over your torture machine.”
“Perhaps not,” he said, as he removed a pin from the pole at the level of the leather seat, and lowered the seat away from her genitals, leaving her standing with her back to the pole and her arms over her head.
“Did you want your panties on or off when you pee,” he asked as he reached beneath her shiny black leather skirt and took hold of both sides of her panties.
“This can’t be happening to me,” she said, “they need to go down, of course, but where will I pee?”
“Right in this basin,” he said, as he pulled her panties down to her ankles and pushed a narrow stainless steel basin between her legs, “I’ll hold this and you can piss in it.”
“This is embarrassing,” she said, as she closed her eyes and let herself go.”
“There,” he said, after the flow stopped. He set the stainless container on a table nearby and opened a moist towelette.
“What are you going to do with that?”
“I’m going to wipe you off and then put your panties back.”
“Noooo, this is so unbelievable,” she complained as he wiped her entire genital area with the moist towelette and pulled her panties back into place beneath her skirt. He lifted the leather seat back up between her legs and replaced the pin in its position to hold it.
“It seems to me, Keiko, that these shoes must be uncomfortable for you by now,” he said, as he knelt down beside her left leg, “and it’s rude to wear your shoes into someone’s house anyway.”
As Keiko complained, the man unbuckled both of the straps on her high heeled leather shoes and removed them in a spectacularly slow and sensual manner. She had never felt so vulnerable without her shoes as she did at this moment. He then fastened leather ankle restraints onto her legs and clipped them together below the leather seat. Now, her whole weight was on the seat since she couldn’t even reach the floor with the tips of her toes. He lovingly stroked her small, stocking clad feet in his powerful hands, being careful not to tickle her. He bent down and kissed her toes, livingly, longingly and passionately, causing her to wince and gasp. She had not expected him to do that, nor to feel the sensations he triggered.
“Now then, Keiko, where shall we go next?”
With her breathing, still deep from the sensation of having her toes kissed by the man, her stomach moved in and out quite markedly.
“I know,” he said, as he rolled down the waistline of her skirt and rolled up the bottom of her leather top, “let’s try your tummy for a while.”
“Aaaah, nohohoooo, pleaheeheese,” Keiko cried and giggled.
He started by moving the fude brush along the top of the skirt, right where the waist line had been. Then he moved it along the bottom edge of her top. He worked the brush all over her tummy and her sides, taking the utmost of care not to touch her belly button. Then, after some twenty minutes, Keiko howled with laughter as she felt the first stroke of the fude in her navel. The tears flowed down her cheeks as she laughed and cried at the same time, helplessly squirming in her bonds, while the tickling of her stomach continued for an entire hour. By the time he stopped, she was a sweaty mess of a girl with her long hair matted on her tear stained face, her body glistening with her sweat and her most intimate parts moist with the fluids of her excitement.
“My God, what are you doing to me?”
“Why, I’m just having a little fun with you. Since you are a guest in my home, it is only proper that I should entertain you.”
“You’re turning me on, don’t you know that?”
“Oh, come now, you mean to tell me that a little tickling like this is arousing you already?”
“A little tickling? It’s been hours already! That thing between my legs is driving me crazy. Every time I move even a little, it rubs me down there.”
“I see,” he said, as he brought the can of Coke to her lips, “so you’re not going to like it when I tickle under your arms then, are you?”
“Nooo, God, please don’t! I’m so ticklish in there.”
“Oh, Keiko, that’s so sad,” he said, as he returned the now empty Coke can to the table.”
“Aaaah, nooooo,” she cried, bucking up and down on the leather seat between her legs, as he tickled her armpits. He kept tickling her underarms without respite for an entire hour as the sweating, straining girl fought the restraints that held her so perfectly. Her head fell forward onto her chest in exhaustion when he finally stopped. It took several minutes for her to catch her breath.
“Wow,” he said, “I’m tired already. But there are so many places that we still need to explore.”
“No, please stop now,” she pleaded.
“You know I can’t do that, Keiko,” he said, as he reached around behind her back and unzipped her leather top. He then cut through the shoulder straps with a small knife, being careful to do so at the seams so that it could be easily repaired. He gently took hold of the top edge of the garment, above Keiko’s breasts, and peeled it forward to expose them. Keiko bit her lip.
“Are your breasts ticklish, Keiko?”
“I don’t know. Nobody has ever tried to tickle them.”
“Oh, God,” she cried, inhaling deeply, as he kissed her nipples, “please, what are you doing to me?”
He kissed her nipples tenderly and passionately, biting them lightly, while Keiko threw back her head against the pole as the sensations coursed through her nervous system to her brain.
“Aaaaah, oooooh, shihihihit,” she cried as he tickled her aching breasts with both of the fude brushes, making large circles around each breast and working them in ever decreasing circles up to the areolas and then finally to her nipples. She tried to turn her body from side to side to relieve the sensations but nothing helped. She screamed as he suddenly removed the rest of the top from her and the entire upper half of her body was naked.
“Hahahahahahaaa,” she laughed, as he moved in behind her and tickled her ribs and her sides, every so often moving up to her armpits, while she struggled with all of her might in his powerful hands.
Keiko was terribly exhausted but didn’t even realize it as he continued to tickle her for another hour. He opened another can of Coke and let her sip through the straw again.
“I have to pee again,” said Keiko.
The man unfastened the clip between her ankle cuffs and lowered the leather seat again so that she could stand on her toes. Without her high heels and thick soles, the only part of her that could touch the floor was the tips of her toes. He reached under her skirt and pulled down her panties, held the container in place for her, allowed her to piss, wiped her clean with a towelette and pulled up her panties.
“What are you doing,” cried Keiko in surprise as he pulled down the zipper behind her skirt, pulled it down her legs and lifted her to remove it over hear feet.
“I am removing your skirt, of course, you can see that.”
After he clipped her ankle cuffs together again underneath the seat, he started to tickle the back of her thighs with her fingers, wiggling them lightly all over the surfaces of her stockings. Keiko giggled and laughed as he tickled her legs, struggling and moving all over the leather seat of the device she was fastened upon. No part of her legs was spared as he moved from the back of her thighs to her knees, her calves, back up to her thighs and finally the cheeks of her ass where they protruded from her panties. She squeezed her thighs tightly against the sides of the leather seat on which she sat since her pussy was now soaking wet with the juices of her arousal. She hoped it wasn’t showing through her panties.
“Now comes the best part of all, Keiko,” he said, as he unclipped the ankle restraints, peeled her stockings down over her feet to remove them, pulled her ankles back behind the pole and refastened the clip, “are your feet ticklish?”
“No, aah, no, please, not my feet,” she pleaded, struggling against her bonds with everything she had, bouncing up and down on the leather seat, now totally off balance with her ankles and feet on the other side of the pole behind her.
The man brought forth a wheeled stool of the sort used in doctor’s and dentist’s offices. He picked up his two calligraphy brushes and wheeled the stool to a point behind the post where, by nature of her position, the soles of Keiko’s feet were facing him.
“Aaaaah, nooooooooo,” she screamed and laughed as she felt the brushes start to work on the soles of her feet. He started with her toes, working the fude in and around each toe and through the hollows underneath. Over the course of an hour, he moved the brushes to the insteps and arches of her feet, paying particular attention to the little crease in the balls of her feet and the lines created by the wrinkles when she flexed her toes. Keiko was in a world of agony as the tickling went on and on and on.
Finally, he stopped tickling her feet. He unclipped her ankles and lowered them gently so that they wouldn’t fall and injury the exhausted girl. She simply hung in the wrist restraints since she didn’t even have the energy to point her toes and touch the floor. He removed her panties which were now drenched with sweat and the juices of her arousal.
“Look how wet you are,” he said, as he held her panties up and smelled them, inhaling the aroma of her most intimate juices deeply. Keiko opened her eyes to look and let her eyelids fall shut again.
Holding her carefully, he unfastened the wrist restraints and lifted the exhausted girl off the leather seat into his arms. He carried her to the large bath in another room and bathed her carefully, gently and thoroughly with a large sponge, shampooed her long black hair, held her in his arms for a long time, then dried her off. He carried her up to his bedroom and gently lowered her into the soft, cool satin sheets of his bed. He allowed the beautiful, naked young girl to sleep in his arms the rest of the night and most of the following day. While he was awake by noon, she continued to sleep until four o’clock.
When she stepped into a car he had provided for her, with a driver, the man gave her an envelope. On the way home, she found ten thousand dollars (or at least the Japanese equivalent) and a card with a telephone number when she looked in the envelope.
