I first met Yura at the very beginning of 2007, February. Stereotypically enough we met at a bar in Shinjuku, a busy area in central Tokyo. When I first met Yura the initial thing that caught my eye was her height.  She is about 176 centimeters tall, as tall as most men here if not taller, so she was towering over all the other women in the bar and at least half of the guys. The next thing that made her standout in a crowded bar that Saturday night was her posture: erect, long and graceful. Graceful but with a kind of power, the way powerful swimmers move. It’s also worth noting that Yura is not a small girl, neither in height nor build. There is nothing “chubby” about her, she is just strong.  Have you ever heard the stories about how in ancient Germany after an invading horde had slaughtered the men, suddenly from the dark woods would come a second wave of axe wielding lunatics naked, smeared in animal blood, screaming all hell whilst slamming said axe into your skull; these were the women of the men you had just killed with so much trouble.

 Yura would fit right in.

 

 

I honestly don’t know if I saw her first or if she saw me, but it was clear that we had seen each other and nature did what it does along with the help from Mr. Vodka and Ms. Long Island iced tea the two of us fell into an interesting and easy conversation. I had come with a friend and so had she but in the end we spent the better part of the night just chatting, laughing and flirting.
After that night she and I dated a few times. We had dinner. We went for a walk. We had a lunch. It wasn’t until dinner at my place, I cooked Italian, Gorgonzola, that while discussing her very promising career in city planning did the topic of her “part-time job” came up.

Me: “Really? You have time for more work? You’re so busy.”
Yura: “Well my part-time job is actually my passion…I love it.”
Me: “OK so what are you doing then?” I was stuffing pasta into my face at this point, I distinctly remember because I nearly choked when she answered me; and she liked that.
Yura: “I work at a club in East Shinjuku, I’m a professional Jyousama.”

Jyousama is the Japanese term for “Queen” in the dominatrix sense of the word.
Needless to say the nights conversation revolved around her part-time job and SM in general. I will tell you now without embarrassment, that I have, and have always had at the very least SOME measure of interest in this darker side of sexuality, and that nights conversation was extremely interesting to me. She explained patiently and articulately that she was a total sadist.

A true Sadist not simply someone who plays around sexually.

She told me that through her entire life she had found pleasure both sexually and beyond while controlling and dominating other people, men and women. In school she had excelled at academics and at sports. Later on, despite having rather plain facial features and a body and height that most men find intimidating in Japan, she would often be dating with a popular, professional up and comer. Her friends expressed jealousy and people who did not know her well expressed out right surprise, even shock, at the men who seemed to worship her.
She dated a very well-known company’s CEO. She dated a famous sports celebrity. She had an affair (leaked to the press) in Fiji with a married mid level politician.

Over the years she had found out that many men, successful, smart and seemingly strong men, often have a desire to be controlled, owned and dominated by a woman who can truly do those things with skill and confidence.

After that night we met a few more times and often discussed the SM world and her work within it. I was astounded to hear about some of the things she had witnessed and been a part of. Aside from working in the club in east Shinjuku and entertaining private clients she had also been involved in a movie.

“Full throttle Queens” volume 20 the “SADS CLINIC”.

That world of control and submission, fetish and acceptance, pleasure and pain…it is a world in Tokyo and all over Japan that often operates outside of normal laws and limitations and the authorities happily turn a blind eye toward it when they can get away with it. Knowing Yura led me to meet other people who both were orbiting this intense body of places, people and desires as I had come to do, and others who were fully immersed in it. Completely addicted and imprisoned by it.
Over time, a short time just a couple of months, Yura and I fell out of contact. This had to do with both my schedule and life and hers as well. Perhaps there was more behind the scenes psychologically on my part that played some role in it, I’m unsure, but ties were for the most part severed.

2 years later

It was with some difficulty that I got in contact with Yura again.
I had decided that I needed to catch up with her and I wanted specifics. I had since become a bit more serious about writing and I wanted to catalogue items and make sure I could REMEMBER all these people and places and things and feelings that I had experienced during my time here. It had all become very serious for me.

I didn’t want to miss anything. Not anymore.

Although there were some things I still couldn’t (and still can’t) even consider writing about for fear of being stabbed, I knew that there was much more that had been “declassified” and I could get away with it.
Also, I had been in contact with a magazine that had made it clear they had in interest in some of the “wild” tales I was spinning and could actually find a humble page corner someplace for my unorthodox experiences and I to call home.

Yura had changed a bit. I contacted her first via mobile email and she was a slightly stand offish but warmed up fairly quickly. I learned that she no longer worked at the club but was only meeting a few elite private clients and she was focusing on her new ambition: Law.

She had begun attending Law school just after she and I had stopped talking and was also working as a legal clerk at a  well-known law office in Downtown Tokyo. It took some time emailing, chatting and a couple of coffees before I could approach the subject of an interview and actually her reaction had made me a little nervous.

She had smiled, the smile a wolf might have remembering something unnecessary and cruel it did to some sad little piece of prey sometime in the past in some forest someplace, in the snow, spotted and smeared with red, and she had said “I’d love to do an interview with you.”

The emphasis on “you” was hers. I didn’t add that.
There were however, conditions.

1. I could not use her real name. Fair enough.
2. I could not give specific names regarding her office etc. OK.
3. I could not show a clear photo of her face…huh?

Number 3 confused me as her photo is all over the Japanese area of the internet and she is IN A MOVIE for god’s sake; Two that I knew of.  She wouldn’t explain her motivations, she just insisted on these three points and I, obviously agreed.

We ended up having our talk at a coffee shop I know in Kabukichou. It’s just past the big McDonald’s and up on the 2nd floor, an all night deal. It’s never too busy before midnight and they get all kinds in there. Privacy is something that is hard to find in Tokyo but this cafe isn’t bad and I’ve often had somewhat sensitive one-on-ones there and its a little alcove of quiet in one of the most notorious red light districts in Asia.

Yura came to the Cafe wearing a purplish dress, fitted enough so that one could make out the lines of her bust and hips but not excessively tight or showy. Not unlike what she wore the night we met at the bar. Her shoulder length black hair looked good; a stylish cut but conservative enough for her Law firm clerk position.
I had prepared a few questions and I had them in my notebook, I also was recording our conversation on an MP3 and I promised her before hand that it would be deleted as soon as this was written. Our table was right next to a window that overlooked that busy cobblestone street leading into Kabukichou and Koma square and it was getting dark and people were funneling in, desperate for whatever fix they could come up with.
We had some small talk. She looked nice. Thanks, you too. Then lamely I forced out “So…shall we begin?” It was then that it occurred to me that Yura had probably been interviewed before and I hadn’t interviewed anyone in YEARS let alone someone I had a personal history with. I wondered who was going to be holding the reins on this one…

Me:” So, you quit the club?”
Yura:“Yes. I am too busy. I don’t have a time for that now. No time.”

Me:” That means your just meeting private clients now?”
Yura:“Hmmm Maybe. Yes I am meeting a few of the good private clients. I kept a few of them around. The Shachou (CEO) and a couple of Doctors and some (she leans in and whispers a little smiling) Yakuza type of men. Like these type.”

Me:” Private clients pay better right? And you know them well so it must be more comfortable no?”
Yura:” It is like the club. Of course there is pay but also gifts. The gifts are good and sometimes they are better than the pay. Like all my bags…see this bag today is Hermes you know? It was gift from client.”

Me:” Which client?”
Yura:” I think from the Doctor from Saitama. I’m not sure though.”

The waiter came at this point and we ordered. I had a cappuccino and Yura had red wine.  I had made the decision not to drink during this interview, primarily for my own safety.

Me:” OK….(I looked at my notes) I have a few questions and…well they are all pretty graphic and straight forward. You think its ok?”
Yura:“Graphic ha dou iu imi desu ka“? What does Graphic mean?

Me:“Ahh… Detailed. Like very detailed.”
Yura:” It’s fine. Detail is no problem for me. What would you like to know Eric-san?”

The politeness from her now…is she flirting?

Me: “OK, I remember we talked about this before, but please tell me at the club who was the strangest or most extreme client you ever had?”
Yura:” Eeto…well I had three. They were all very hentai (kinky, strange, not a bad meaning in her line of work) but they were all different kind of hentai.”

Me:” Right, so can you explain? Can you tell me about all three and what was different about them? Wait, first, so when a man comes to the club there is no set menu or anything? I mean they can make requests for things?”
Yura:She laughed. “Set menu ham sandwich and iced tea?  Nanka ne…we have it. For someone who is a beginner. But if someone has an idea of fantasy, they can explain and then we can do it. If it is very serious or hard play it can cost more or maybe the Jyousama will refuse and they will ask another person working at the club but both is OK. Set menu or not set.”

Me:“OK. So, please, tell me about these three men.”
Yura:” First man…it was about 1 year before meeting you, so 2006. It was the most difficult client I ever had. For me it was so difficult. I had seen that I had a large appointment that evening, 3 hours time and there was a note of “Special case” on the email. I had no idea about it. I did not know the detail of Special Case but I had met many client so I had no worry. When I went to this room I was shocked to see two people. One oba-san (middle-aged or older woman) holding a bag and also a very slim young man in a wheelchair. His body was hurt, I mean it was not the normal body. His legs were strange and he sat in the chair a little strange, sickness. I was standing in front of them in sexy black thigh boots and latex SM costume and both of them just are there in front of me. It was too strange.”

She stopped now and had some wine and looked out the window.  I did too. The flashing lights from one of the 20 different pachinko parlors in the area nearly hypnotic in its pulsing rhythm.

Me: “…so what did they want from you?”
Yura:” The man he could not talk so well. He used a kind of computer key board and also the woman who I learned was his mother, helped him speak to me. Because he is sick and his body is strange his whole life people give him pity. Always so much pity. When he uses the train all staff of train help him and people move for him and look at him with sad eyes. Sometimes people move away from him silently because he makes them feel bad. He knows this. Nobody has even been hard to him and he came to the point in his life where all he wants is someone, a woman to treat him badly. He wants to be bullied, insulted, smacked and hit…seriously…insulted as a cripple and strange figure person!”

Me:“Jesus.”
Yura:” Yes right! I had to ask them to give me a moment alone and I went to other room. I thought maybe I can’t do this. It is wrong! I really felt its wrong. Then his Mother came to speak to me. She explained that he had been dreaming of this for years. She had tried to convince him not to do it or to think of it for so long but he could not be changed. She begged me and offered me more money…and almost she was crying. I gave up to her and I said I would do it.”

Me:” So what did you do to him? How did he react? What did his mother do?”
Yura:” I had to have a drink vodka before going back!
But then I made decision to be professional and I felt that maybe if this is what he needs then it is not bad. So in the room my mind changed and I looked down on him so hard. I called him many names like cripple and pig and weak and bitch. I pulled his hair and slapped his face. I looked to his mother often because I did not want to go over the limit of this…”

Me:“Wait wait…his mother STAYED in the room?”
Yura:” UN! Okashi kunai!?! (yeah, it’s so strange right?) She stayed in the room. She just stood to the side of the room and was staring so hard and breathing very loud.”

Me:“That is so weird…”
Yura:” Yes yes weird. Then he is saying to me like “More more” in strange voice so finally I knocked him from wheelchair and he was on the floor I put my boot into his mouth and told him to suck on it and he did it. After than he just laying there and I looked at his mother and she just nodding the head “yes” to me. So then I left.”

Me:” You didn’t help him up into the chair?”
Yura:” No. I think that would be against his fantasy. I just left. His mother left a money gift for me with the manager. It was quite a lot.”

Me:“God that’s heavy.”
Yura:“Un sugokunai?? (yeah amazing right?). The next strange client I felt was strange but not so much. Do you want to hear it?”

Me:“Oh yeah…please, do tell.”
Yura:” He was Yakuza member. He had all the tattoos and he had quite a lot of money and he came to see me often. He was bigger man, almost as big as you Eric-san. He told me that he was secret gay. It was secret because he had a fear to tell some other member of his group but he want to be slave for men…its all he thought about. Often when he would visit me I would wear a penis belt (strap on dildo) and would have anal sex to him. I did Shibari (Japanese rope work) and gag ball and anal sex to him very hard to make him screaming. It was almost always like this. Finally on one visit he came and he seemed a bit different. Before we began our play as usual he handed me a gift. Nice box with wrapping. He always did like this. Usually it was a chocolate or sometimes necklace or something. Today’s box was heavy and I felt excited. He was sitting like Seiza (Japanese sitting position, feet under the body sitting on the legs) and I was standing over him and I opened the box. I was shocked to see that the inside was a large shiny knife. It had a curve blade and gold handle and was very sharp. I grab it and hold it up and ask him “What is this?”

Me:“What did he say?”
Yura:” He told me…it was so strange…he told me that he could not hide about being gay anymore and during drinking with some other member of his group, they went to drinking and sex with girls at a soap land in Ikebukuro, he had told one member that he would like to have sex with him. He said that member was drunk so he did the anal sex to him in front of prostitute girls and 2 other group member! This is not good for him because now some member of his group knows he is gay and he is afraid they will tell others and it will be bad for him.”

Me:“So why the knife?”
Yura:“For me to kill him! He said he wants to commit suicide but he is too weak, so he begged me to kill him…that day. He begged. He offered money. He even had a note he wrote, suicide note and he had planned it so I could cut his nantiu onaka?”

Me:“Stomach.”
Yura:“Sou! Stomach. Cut it like a Seppuku style. So I would not get the trouble. Actually he offer to give me 2,000,000 yen. (about 20,000 dollars)”

Me:“So..?
Yura:” Of course I can’t do it! I am not a killer. And in my mind I began to feel excite to think of his gang member knowing he is a weak bitch. It was pleasing point for me. I told him this and I ordered him to not kill himself. I told him I would keep the knife as well.”

Me:“So what happened with this guy?”
Yura:“I’m not sure but I introduced him to very Sado Gay yakuza man I know. I have not heard about it since then.”

Me: “Yura, that’s insane.”

She just laughs happily, relishing my reaction. I move on.

Me:“OK, I’m glad you didn’t kill him.”
Yura:“Yes of course I don’t it. I’m not killer. Some Mazo man is so crazy. Cannot think like a normal human anymore.”

Me:“OK,OK. You said three men. Who was the third man?”
Yura: Smiling big. “Ah! it was not SO strange only who he is its strange and fun for me! He was a man who loved to be tied and beaten and anal sex when I wear penis belt.”

Me:“Right. Well, that seems to be the standard for you and your…”
Yura:“Yes,yes but he was American Navy officer!”

Me:“You’re kidding right?”
Yura:“No way. Really he was American Navy officer from Yokosuka base. And he would come to see me, because I’m also speaking English, and he loved to be slave for me. Often he wore his uniform too. The play was not so strange but it was him being Navy man that was strange. Anyway that’s the number 3 man.”

Me:“Navy. Thank god he wasn’t a Marine. Yura, thanks for talking to me tonight I know you’re busy.”
Yura:“It’s no problem. I like to meet you and I want to help with your writing.”

Me:“So we can meet again, maybe another interview in the future?”
Yura:“Of course…maybe I can interview YOU after we have play session??”

There is the big Wolves grin again…big sharp looking white teeth…

Me:“Let’s stay in touch.”

I paid and we left together and after saying goodbye on the street went separate ways.  The recurring thought in my head the whole evening was: God help that woman’s future husband….or depending on the man, maybe God already has.

 

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