This is a chapter out of my ridiculous memoir I’m writing about my time and misadventures in Tokyo.  The title is called “J-girls.” Reader beware: I’m a horrible person and if you’re just figuring that out you haven’t been paying attention.

Chiho

Although my head was largely inserted in my own ass all through 2004, I can remember clearly and state that the phone website, TokyoGaijin, and  the website Adult Friend Finder were connecting me with lots of women who were very eager to sow their wild oats.

I had no game what-so-ever at this time either. My life consisted of jogging and shadow boxing in the mornings, going to one of my schools to do as little as possible during the day , and then me dragging my sorry ass to the gym to be beaten up and exhausted after work.  Money was tight and the rice and canned tuna menu reigned supreme with Wednesday night pizza and beer, courtesy of Ayako.

I didn’t have many friends at this time, any friends really, except for the occasional coffee with another ALT after a work function. So, the loneliness coupled with my intense sexual appetite and general boredom meant I’d spend 4 or 5 hours a night reading blogs about BDSM, Japanese pick-up (nobody had ever heard of “The Game”, by Neil Strauss yet, but Japan had a structured and developed pick up community. It’s called “Nanpa”) and hanging out on AFF and TokyoGaijjin, respectively.  I was fascinated with SM, Sado-Masochism, and particularly with Japanese binding and rope work or “Shibari”.

In Japanese, “Shibari” simply means “to tie”. The contemporary meaning of Shibari describes an ancient Japanese artistic form of rope bondage.

I found “Shibari” explained well. Here you go:

The origin of Shibari comes from Hojo-jutsu, the martial art of restraining captives. In Japan from 1400 to 1700, while the local police and Samurai used Hojo-jutsu as a form of imprisonment and torture, the honor of these ancient Samurai warriors required them to treat their prisoners well. So, they used different techniques to tie their prisoners, showing the honor and status of their captured prisoner.

In the late 1800′s and early 1900′s a new form of erotic Hojo-justu evolved, called Kinbaku, the art of erotic bondage. Today, particularly in the west, the art of erotic bondage is typically called Shibari, which is an art of erotic spirituality, not a martial art.

Honor. Erotic spirituality. Samurai.

Right.

I just thought it was humiliating as hell for the person being tied up and this turned me on to no end.  Also, the feeling of domination and control one must have when the woman is utterly helpless in front of you, more than normal, seemed incredible.  I couldn’t get enough of this and devoured articles and videos and pictures.

Enter Chiho.

A find on TokyoGaijin, Chiho was 33 years old.  She looked like she was my age.  Her face was cute with a white, straight little smile and very Japanese features elsewhere; small Asian eyes, round smooth cheeks and chin and a somewhat flatter nose; baby-faced.  Her hair was straightened and colored brown and it parted down the middle.

Her body was slamming; Really  nice.  She was perhaps 5’2, naturally tanned; she had full perky breasts, a flat stomach, smooth firm thighs and a thick round ass.  Good God, that ass, I can still clearly remember it. Before we met she and I mailed for a couple of weeks and she dutifully sent me pictures of her, nearly daily, in different sexy panties, on all fours, flaring her lovely thick butt up in the air.  By the time we met the anticipation had risen to a ludicrous level.

In our mails, we had also discussed her ex-bf, some Italian and how huge his cock was.  I loved it.  I wasn’t sure why but whenever it was mentioned I imagined her being filled by it and that made me ravenous.  I was intent on devouring this little woman.

In addition to this it became clear that Chiho was submissive, Masochistic sexually, and was interested in going deeper with that.

Perfect fit? Correct.

Although I had plans to meet Ayako on Christmas Day, I decided to meet Chiho, for the first time, on Christmas eve.  I didn’t fully understand the gravity of this decision then.  In Japan, Christmas eve is the date night to end all other date nights.  It’s the night when the guy is supposed to take the girl on the most romantic date of the year.  The city is bedazzled in ridiculous and inappropriate Christmas “Illumination”. For example one display was “Merry Christmas Circus” complete with a Santa holding a ring of red lights as fire with a brilliant glowing green dragon flying through it, everyone would be out, holding hands and pretending they really liked each other.

On the other hand, Christmas day doesn’t really mean anything.  Most Japanese simply go to work as usual.  So, in my mind I had arranged to meet Ayako on the more important day, Christmas, and the new girl on the evening that didn’t really matter.

Well, it mattered to Chiho.

She showed up at my apartment with a shoulder bag and two big shopping bags from Isetan, an upscale department  store in Shinjuku.  It was about six PM. The plan was for me to cook and we would have dinner and relax, and after that, I would tie her up and do kinky things to her body all night.

Merry Christmas.

Well, she came with everything in tow; all the holiday goodies.  She’d purchased a spectacular cake at Isetan.  We had marinated olives and stuffed peppers and gourmet meatloaf with candied sweet potatoes.  Roast duck with chestnut and ricotta stuffing.  Two bottles of Champagne, the real kind not that Mexican piss, and a decent bottle of red wine, a Shiraz if I remember correctly.

Then, I had Chiho and she was falling in love with me, literally, in front of my eyes and I could see it clearly.  Oh, what tender feelings of domination and control this caused to well up inside of me.  A couple of hours after dinner and most of the bubbly gone, we were kissing and I was slowly groping her breasts and backside, purposefully taking as much time as possible to slowly take her clothes off.  She had dressed well with a tight turtle neck sweater and a dark, tight-fitting, short skirt and dark tights.  Under it all she was wearing a dark red and white matching lace thong panty and bra.  Once I had removed everything else I took several minutes to admire my present and it’s immaculate wrapping job, slowly running my hand over the back of her thigh and ass as she laid on the futon next to me.  I was…amazingly hard, but for some reason, putting off getting to it.

This would become a trend and eventually a kind of addiction for me over the years.  It’s called “pleasure delay.” The premise is simple: draw out and extend the act for as long as possible without reaching the climax.  So, when the climax comes, it’s exponentially stronger.

Sure, this is true, but there is more to it once one enters into the world of SM and bondage.  Pleasure delay is something most submissives get accustomed too and crave.  Being bond or tied or whatever, they have little control over the stimulus they’re receiving and a skilled “Dom” or dominant, will draw this out, taking time to activate and arouse all the right zones, multiple times over if he/she is really good, before getting to it and inducing a mind bending orgasm so intense it can knock the sub unconscious.

I’ve seen it. I’ve done it.  It ain’t pretty either.  The girl starts shaking and gyrating, often begging me to stop insisting she is going to pee all over herself, then either high-pitched grinding squeals or low moaning croaks, or both, can occur and then usually some drool or spit with more gyrating and then the giant moan, exhalation of breath and yeah, sometimes there is some pee, sometimes a discharge of something else and maybe even the occasional queef or fart and it’s over.

You have gained access to the Tower of Coitus, and have read the level 13 ninja scroll of FUCK.

If the Dom is watching the sub’s face, occasionally, you can see her/his eyes roll back in their head and they go limp.  They’ve passed out due to cumming to hard and or flexing the muscles in their neck or holding their breath.

The kind of open little secret which people seem to know but not talk about though, is that while the Dom is domming, putting this sub through the steps and drawing things out to maximize the masochistic helpless of it all, the Dom is actually applying the same punishment to him/her self.  While I’m forcing Chiho or Ayako or Megumi or whoever to endure this long build up to the main meal, I’m also forcing myself to endure it and that’s just self-imposed Masochism.  So, do the math, most Dom’s are also extreme subs under the right conditions.

But those conditions weren’t tonight. And Chiho-chan already had a leather collar fastened around her neck.

I’d gone out and spent some of my fortune, meaning money to pay a mobile phone bill, on a leather collar, a fair amount of hemp rope, some duct tape (red) and a ball gag.  If you aren’t familiar with ball gags, go goggle or it or better yet, try reading a different book because I’m just getting warmed up.

Soon, following instructions I’d found on some video online, she was tied up and well.  The rope started around the upper body encircling her upper arms and going above and below her breasts.  Then a knot was tied in between her breasts pulling the ropes together causing her already full titts to bulge and swell up, her nipples became instantly hard and ultra sensitive.  I played with and teased them as I continued to secure the rope work behind her, binding her arms, behind her back and crossed above the small of her back.  Her forearms and wrists securely tied but not uncomfortably so.

I then turned her around, continually flicking her nipples and quickly, without conversation, pushed the ball gag into her petite little mouth.

“Bite down on it.” I told her.

She did and I pulled the strap tightly in the back of her head which elicited a small moan from her.  Turning her back around to face me, a wave of mind numbing desire flooded over me seeing her cute soft cheeks bulging against the tight leather band of the gag, her mouth slightly agape due to the red ball filling it up, with nothing she could say or do, and her eyes…looking up at me with complete and total embarrassment and surrender.

I was so horny I nearly left the room.  I’d never been that turned on before.

Seeing this incredibly cute woman, so helpless, horny, and submissive was like what I imagine that first shot of heroin is like for junkies; just completely fucking amazing.

I felt like a lion circling a wounder gazelle.  It was my first hit on a crack pipe and I was already hooked.

I spent nearly forty five minutes working her clit, which began to swell a bit, tonguing her and fingering her.  She orgasmed, clearly with an awkward moan, while being fingered hard; three deep.  Later I took the gag off, and set her on her knees and thoroughly enjoyed face fucking her, repeatedly pushing my shaft all the way to let my balls rest on her chin and I would pet her head.  “Good girl. Good girl baby.  Does that taste amazing? Do you love that cock?”

She would just look up at me and blink and barely nod, moaning.

The gag went back on, tightly again and I proceeded to aggressively pound this little woman’s hole.  This was not a tender moment but an athletic event.  Position after position and time was flying by. I’d past the initial climax stage while I was in her mouth and now was in the marathon stage; I could go forever.  I was tall, big and fit and was unloading on this little diminutive creasture and she was absolutely all about it. Her moans were loud and eager and she made eye contact with me whenever the position allowed her to.  I was constantly talking to her “Is this what you like you horny bitch? This?” And she would moan and nod and I’d lightly slap her face.

As the hour mark approached of this combat assault on her vagina I realized I would never cum like this although she had already come again with me ontop.  So, I took a break, poured a glass of wine, and untied her slowly.  I moved to take off the gag, maybe just a slow blowjob I thought, but she stopped me.  She liked it. She liked the tight, constricting and humiliating stimulation of the gag.  After that she couldn’t even look me in the eye having revealed a new layer to her own sexual psychosis.  This really turned the heat up for me, knowing how humiliated she was but how eager too and I pounded her from behind, spanking and grabbing handfuls of her firm tanned ass cheeks, while pulling her long dark brown pony tail hard.  Grunting loudly “Fuck yes make me cum slut.” I went right to the edge and pulled out, violently jacking off and yanking her by her hair back around to face me. I stood up and pushed my dick against her face and squeezed the part just below the head and several streams of hot cum spewed up and down her face. Some of it into her nose and even her hair.  Exhausted I realized I was nearly lifting her off the ground with one hand to do this and I let her go, Chiho collapsing to the tatami floor and me immediately walking out of the room.

I walked, naked, across the apartment, the shit hole, to the front door and opened it. We were the last apartment on an open air cat walk. Freezing cold air rushed in and electrified the sweat on my chest and face and the juice covering my cock, balls and groin. With the breeze I could smell someone making nabe, or Japanese stew, and I could smell our sex.  I don’t recommend this combination, by the way.

After maybe a minute, I’m not sure, I was floating, I closed the door and walked back in grabbing a kitchen towel.

I the room Chiho was just laying there, ballgag still securely in her mouth with her eyes closed.  She didn’t move. I went over, sat down and cleaned her off.  I removed the gag.  For perhaps ten minutes we didn’t speak she just laid her head in my lap.  I then poured her a glass of wine as well, we started chatting and then I opened the present she had gotten for me, a lovely and fairly expensive cappuccino machine, I had gotten her nothing, and explained this away with an excuse about a late delivery and an undependable online vendor. She didn’t seem to care.

We drank the wine and listened to music. She stayed over.

Christmas Morning, Chiho and I had at it again, a more contemporary fashion this time though. She left after a couple of failed tries on the cappuccino machine, finally got one right and we shared it.  I gave her a kiss goodbye, said “Merry Christmas, baby” and spanked her lovely butt as she turned and walked off. I watched her go, really feeling an affection for her. I knew I would be dating her. She was a keeper, I thought to myself.  How was this girl, this woman, not married yet? She lived with her parents and clearly was in search of a partner.  It boggled my mind.

I showered, went for a run, showered again and then made a couple calls to family and changed the sheets on my futon, opened the windows and let some air in.

Ayako came over around four PM and she was carrying all kinds of goodies as well.  Before we did anything, we had sex.  And it was good. Very good. I was took the aggression up a few notches and she seemed to love it.  Pulled her hair a bit more and slapped her ass a bit harder.  She responded by bucking back into me ever harder.

I told her after that how much I cared about her, and I meant it. Ayako was a good girl, also a keeper, and I was happy she was there with me.

After all the eating  and drinking and more sex, about midnight we laid down to sleep.  In the dark, just before I slipped into the dream world, I spontaneously started giggling to myself. I couldn’t control it and it lasted for nearly a minute.  Ayako woke up and asked me if I was okay.

Yeah.  “I’m okay.” I said.

I’m incredible.