3 comments/ 73654 views/ 12 favorites At Suki's Ch. 01 By: So drained It was on the subway where I first saw her, so brashly youthful, so self-possessed, so slyly insouciant, sitting alone in the seats usually set aside for the elderly, gazing at herself in a small compact mirror she was holding. She had been applying makeup to her eyes with quick, deft strokes, and I admired how agile she was. I could never put makeup on while riding the train. My hands aren't too steady as it is, and I would feel far too exposed, doing something like that in public that I'm usually doing in the privacy of my bedroom. The truth was, she was beautiful. I had always been fascinated with Japanese women, and Suki was no exception. Women from Japan just have always seemed so stylish, so slim, so petite; they are everything that I've always wished I was. Me, I'm a tall, gawky American woman, and I've always felt a little overgrown, ever since my breasts began to develop when I was twelve. Maybe it was all that hormone-saturated milk my mother made me drink with lunch and dinner that made me so bosomy so early in life. I don't know, but it has always been a curse to me. I've never known what to do about all the stares from men I would attract. When that happened to me as a teenager, it scared me terribly, and it some ways it's made me a little wary of men ever since. To me, Asian women, with their small frames and narrow waists and perfect honey-brown skin, were the ideal I couldn't live up to. So I've been half in love with every Asian girl I've ever known, particularly Michiko, who in high-school had become the first girl I ever kissed. Before that I had kissed a few boys -- on bus trips and in dark closets during drinking parties -- but none of them ever made me feel anything. But words can hardly describe what I felt when I kissed Michiko that day in her parents’ station wagon. It was like discovering for the first time what pleasure really could be, what life is supposed to promise. She put her gentle lips on mine and I felt an explosion of moisture between my legs, and my whole body seemed to be swelling and blushing simultaneously. I felt magnetized, irrepressibly drawn to Michiko, overwhelmed with an irresistible urge to press my body against hers, to feel her against me, to rub her pert little breasts and kiss her all over her body. But we were both so meek; we couldn’t follow through with it. But since then, I’ve fantasized about her constantly, bringing myself to luscious orgasm after orgasm, thinking about her lips on mine, and my hands on her body, her dark eyes and her smile, and how bright and beautiful her face was, how delicious her mouth was. I get wet just describing it now, thinking of her still, my lost Michiko. But she doesn’t matter anymore, now that Suki has come to possess me. So we were on the subway, and after she was done putting away her makeup kit, I felt that she was noticing me as much as I was noticing her, because whenever I looked at her, she was staring back at me with a enigmatic, mocking smile on her face. I couldn’t tell if she was ready to laugh at me, or if she was, for some impossible reason, fascinated by me. She had short, pixie-like hair, straight and black and boyish, tortoise shell glasses in narrow frames that perched halfway down her button nose, and she wore a skirt with tiny open-toed black shoes that showed off her delicious toes, perfectly painted a bright shiny red. How I wanted to nibble on them, suck them until the enamel came off -- God, where do such thought come from! And she was wearing a shirt like none I’d ever seen, it fit her snuggly across her breasts, emphasizing their roundness and fullness for a woman so small, but it hung loosely around her arms and waist, and had a curious collar, slightly but intentionally asymmetrical, provocative, as it exposed a sliver of her beautiful porcelain shoulder. I was getting dizzy just at the thought of her looking at me, I felt like I was swaying at the edge of a precipice. Finally I just dove in. I sat beside her, and she smiled at me. I told her I liked her shirt, that I never saw anything like it. “You like it?” she said. “Thank you so much! I make it myself.” I was relieved to find that she spoke English well enough to communicate. Her voice was surprisingly sultry for someone so petite. We introduced ourselves to each other, and we made small talk. My heart was pounding in my throat the whole time, and I hoped she couldn’t tell how hard my nipples had become. It felt almost unseemly. She continued to tell me about her clothes-making for a while until finally I told her that I would love it if she would make a shirt for me. “I would love that,” she said. “I’d love to make girl like you look nice and sexy.” She smiled with that same coy, clever look, and she shifted slightly against me. Did that mean what I thought it could? “Well you would have your work cut out for you,” I said. “Don’t be silly,” she growled. “Beautiful tall American girl like you,” she said, “it’s nothing to make you sexy. The whole world dreams of you.” She looked me up and down with serious look now, narrowing her eyes as she surveyed me. I felt myself blushing unaccountably. After all, we were just having an innocuous conversation. Yet I felt warm, on fire, and my pussy was getting wetter and wetter the more she looked at me. I felt that if she touched me, even casually, accidentally, I might explode. And I longed desperately for it. I could hardly think to speak. She asked for my number, and I was so nervous I could barely spit out the digits as she programmed them into her phone. “I call you sometime, take your measurements” she said, slyly, with a definite note of salaciousness. I couldn’t have been imagining it. I practically ran home from my subway stop to get home and masturbate. I put my hair up, dug my vibrator out of my drawer and set myself up in front of my full length mirror the way I like. I can angle the mirror down so I can watch myself, so I can see the slim vibrator slip in and out between the lips of my vagina until my clit stiffens. I lean against the wall and watch myself spreading open, wider and wider, and I imagine it is Suki watching me, smiling her enigmatic smile, saying, “you have such beautiful measurement.” My breasts were certainly larger than hers, maybe this will intrigue her, I thought. I held them up and offered them to the mirror, tweaking my nipples, which were as stiff as push pins. They felt heavy and luscious to me, plump and melon-like, and I imagine Suki, her tortoise-shell glasses on, sucking away at my nipples, pulling and tugging until it was like there was a cord connecting each nipple directly with my clit. I put my thumb in my mouth, and imagined it was Suki’s big toe, and I sucked and sucked, closing my eyes and then opening them to see myself in the mirror, naked and languorous, pleasure roiling through me. I came like crazy, thinking of her, dreaming I was plunging my tongue into her tight Japanese snatch. It wasn’t too many days later that she called and invited me to her apartment. It was in some neighborhood I had never been in Queens, and the directions were finally so confusing that she agreed to meet me at the station and walk me back to her place. I had the hardest time deciding what to wear. I didn’t know if Suki was really interested in me as a lover, or if she really just wanted to make clothes for me. I didn’t know how much seduction was expected out of me. I decided to slut myself up a bit, and I wore my tightest tank-top, which showed my breasts to their best advantage and left nothing to the imagination. Usually I’m too embarrassed to wear a top like that, but this was a special occasion, perhaps the only occasion I could think of that would warrant it. I put on a little makeup, which I usually don’t do, and I put on stockings and a short skirt, one that emphasized my long legs. Looking in the mirror, I seemed sexy enough. But I still felt awkward. I felt as if my whole body had become sensitized, and dressing sexy intensified the feeling, an all over buzz that was warm and distracting. Walking to the subway, I got lost in the buzz, and almost forgot where I was headed. The skirt made me walk with my legs close together, and the friction this was causing between my legs was driving me crazy, and turning me on. I could tell people were noticing me, watching my breasts bounce, looking at the cleavage that my tank-top exposed. Part of me wanted to hide, but another part of me was reveling in it. I felt a little shameless, and I hadn’t felt that way in a long time. I forgot how totally arousing it was. When I got to her stop, Suki was waiting for me as she had promised. She looked amazing. She wore a long form-fitting dress that presumably was her own creation as well, and it revealed her tight little ass and her perky breasts as well as the beautiful lines her torso made. Her hips were narrow, so she had a slender physique, exactly what I have always dreamed of, exactly what I haven’t had myself since I was twelve. She had giant Jackie O sunglasses on that made her head seem perfectly round, perfectly cute. “Look at you,” she said, laughing, “You’re so beautiful now! Beautiful American woman of the world.” She playfully grabbed my hand to take me to her apartment, and we held hands the entire way. It was like a wonderful dream. She was talking and laughing, tell me about the sights in her neighborhood as we passed them, all the while our hands clasped together, swinging back and forth. At one point she pulled me close, and I could feel her small lithe body tremble beside me. Or perhaps that was just me quivering with anticipation. On the corner, in front of a fruit stand, she raised her sunglasses onto her forehead and looked into my eyes for a long pregnant moment. “I can’t wait to get to apartment,” she said. “I want to put my hand up your skirt.” Immediately I blushed and my pussy became positively soaked. “That’s why I wore it,” I said. In front of her door, we kicked off her shoes, and she brought my hand to her lips and kissed it. “Don’t be so nervous,” she said. We were barely inside her apartment when she pulled her long dress up over her head and demonstrated that, just as I had suspected, she was wearing absolutely nothing underneath. Her naked body was sheer perfection. Her breasts, so elegant, like little teardrops rolling down her chest, with light brown nipples, hard little buds just waiting to be tongued. And her pubic hair was mostly shaved, save for a dark, silky stripe that come up from her slit, which already appeared to be lubricated with her sweet juice. “What you waiting for?” she said. “Let’s play.” She threw her body against me, and my hands were in her hair, and caressing her body and feeling her softness, and sliding over every curve they can find: her hips, her ass, her thighs. She put her hand up my skirt as she promised, and pulled my panties down so she could get at my dripping cunt. “Oh,” she murmured, her voice as sultry as it was in my dreams, “you all wet already. I love that.” And she worked her fingers inside me deftly, and it felt as if I was shaped just for her and her quick little fingers all of a sudden, and how come I never knew this before? I never knew anything like this pleasure before. I was nearly panting, licking her neck, kissing her bare shoulders, squeezing the tight cheeks of her ass, trying to work my own fingers inside. I was six inches taller than her, and it seemed as if my hands could reach everywhere. “You’re a crazy American girl,” Suki said. “I bet you do crazy things.” “I do anything,” I said, kissing her, sucking her neck, running my fingers through her short hair. “Come to the bedroom,” she said. She led me by the hand to her bedroom, which had a four-poster bed with a canopy and was lit with candles. I could hear the sound of gently running water. “Take your clothes off,” she ordered, and I obeyed, while she attended to something in one of the drawers of her bureau. I wrestled my tank-top off and let my breasts free from the bra I was wearing. I pulled off the skirt and stood there in nothing but my stockings when she turned around when she turned around. I was stunned for a moment by what I saw, because she suddenly had a huge jet black penis jutting from her slender hips. Then I saw she had put on a strap-on dildo. “Want me to fuck with you this, huh? American girl like that big black cock?” Her voice made me weak, faint with desire. I licked my lips and said, “God yes, Suki. Fuck me. Please fuck me.” “I like it when you say please,” she said, with a slight chuckle to her voice. “Down on your knees.” I got on my knees, not even noticing that she had begun to bark commands at me. I was putty in her hands, completely given over to her, delirious with a need to have her body against mine. “Suck on it,” she said, thrusting the big rubber cock at me, and of course I sucked on it, even though it nearly gagged me, especially as she was twisting her hips, forcing it deeper. “That’s nice,” she giggled, and I couldn’t tell if she was feeling pleasure, or if she was just laughing at me, with the rubber cock in my mouth. It didn’t matter. I would do anything she told me at this point, and I was so turned on, she could have stuck the lit candle in my cunt and it would have made me come. Finally she pulled the rubber cock out of my mouth, turned me around, bent me over a chair she had, and started to fuck me from behind. I gasped when I felt that black cock push into me. It felt so amazing. I felt filled up like I never had been before. She worked at my cunt with that rubber cock relentlessly, gyrating her hips, thrusting with primal power, all the while laughing her enigmatic laugh and muttering words I didn’t understand in Japanese. Me, I couldn’t speak. I was too busy moaning with pleasure. I was coming before I knew it, great waves of pleasure that rippled through me as she split me open. I begged her to let me eat her pussy. “Please,” I begged. I wanted her to feel the pleasure I had felt, and I thought it was the surest way to make her come. But she had withdrawn into a shell, and she seemed uninterested in communicating with me. She lay back on her bed, and drew the canopy closed. I poked my head in the opening, and she pushed it away with her bare foot. I only caught a glimpse of her pleasuring herself with the same black cock that she fucked me with. I was disappointed she wouldn’t share her pleasure with me. But what could I do? I dressed quickly, feeling very foolish, suddenly, in my sexy clothes I had worn, and then I left. I didn’t know where I was going in her neighborhood, so I wondered lost for a while, partly in a daze from all the pleasure and all the disappointment. I had been on an emotional roller-coaster, and I barely knew what to think, was barely aware of my surroundings. I bumped into people. I nearly got hit by a bus as I wandered into a street without watching the signals. I was a mess. I wondered if I would ever see Suki again. * A few weeks went by without me hearing anything of Suki. I sought for her in vain on the train where I met her, but didn't see her. I tried the number she gave me, but it rang and rang and rang. I began to think it was all a dream, an overheated fantasy my brain concocted to spur my desires. But then one morning I received a call. The moment she spoke OI knew it was her, and immediately my heart began to race with delight and trepidation. "I make something for you," she said, "I want you to come over and try." I told her I could hardly wait, and said I'd be on the first train out to her neighborhood. When I got to her neighborhood, it was like being plunged back into an ornate and lurid dream. Part of it was because it was so foreign. All the signs were in Asian characters, and all around me were Chinese and Japanese faces, the sounds of their languages, totally mystifying to me. I felt like i stuck out so much, I saw no other white faces at all. And this aroused me in a strange way, a feeling compounded by the fact that I only had come to this place to have sex, to indulge myself in sex and nothing else. So everything seemed erotic; the way I stuck out, the way I seemed to be taller than everyone else, the way the streets seemed to wind and turn on themselves, the smells of meat cooking at sidewalk barbecues. I felt lost in a mass of alien sensations, which made all my senses heightened, and my entire body was alive to stimulation. By the time I was at Suki's apartment, I was on fire with desire, my cunt wet and ready for her. She was more beautiful than I even remembered her. She had a boy's white wife-beater shirt on and a pair of panties. She threw her arms around me and kissed me on the mouth, letting my tongue dance inside her mouth for a moment before she pulled away and giggled like she always did. Her short hair was toussled, and her glasses had become crooked on her face. She looked so cute, I wanted to devour her. "My big beautiful American girl," she said, laughing. i wondered if she was going to fuck me with the strap on again; I yearned to have something inside me, and feel her hands all over my body. I began to take off the shirt and shorts I was wearing, moving towards her, wanting her touch. But first, before she would make love, she wanted me to try on the outfit she made for me. The first component was a corset. "You made this?" I asked. I couldn't even fathom making something so complex. She put it around my waist, and I got on my knees so she could lace it up. She would loop the lace through two holes, and pull tight, and I would gasp as it cinched me. And the process seemed to go on and on, the corset squeezing my ribs tighter and tighter until I thought I would suffocate. But the more tight it became, the more painful it was for me to move, to breathe, the more aroused I became especially as it thrust my breasts out forward as it straightened my back it made impossible for me to hunch forward. Finally Suki was finished lacing it, and she had me stand up. "Look how beautiful you are!" she said, and she led me to a full length mirror where I could see myself. I looked totally different, I could hardly recognize my body. Because my back was so straight, I seemed several inches taller. My waist was suddenly so wildly narrow, and my breasts, by comparison, looked gigantic, so much larger compared to my tiny waist. My hips, too, suddenly seemed so wide, so curvaceous, so shapely. The corset made my breasts thrust out so far, too, in front of my arms, in a frankly sexual pose that I never saw myself in. And it made my ass stick out in the back, too, and made my vagina so easily accessible from the rear. Plus I was so wet, too, I felt wide open to the world. I never felt like such a sexual object before. It made me swoon a bit, or perhaps that was just my shortness of breath, since it was so hard for to take in breaths with the corset as tight as it was. I thought that was all, but there was more to the outfit Suki had made me. First she had me pull on black stockings that reached the middle of my thighs and then a skirt that didn't even reach the tops of those stockings. Of course, I wasn't wearing any underwear. And then she had me put on a white, translucent silk shirt that fit like nothing I had ever worn. It was designed to be as tight as the corset around my waist, but featured a soft, loose upper half, that cupped my breasts in gentle bags of silk, In the mirror I could see how you could see my hard nipples and the brown of my aueroles right through the material in the light. Now that I was more fully dressed, I looked even more lascivious. Everything about me seemed to scream a sexual availability: the way my breasts were thrust out and compartmentalized in their silk pouches, the way the short skirt draped barely over my bare ass, which I couldn't help but stick out lewdly, like a monkey in heat, and the slashes of white, creamy thigh that showed beneath the tiny skirt and above the stockings I wore, little flashes of flesh, and my legs, perfectly sleek and long in the black nylon encasement. "You so sexy," Suki said. At Suki's Ch. 01 "It's incredible," I said. "I feel like I want to fuck myself!" She stood beside me giggling. She put a hand under the skirt on my bare ass and I watched in the mirror as she absently stroked it. “You’re like real slut now,” she said, still laughing. I continued to stare at myself, getting hotter and wetter at the slutty image of myself, touching my breasts, making my nipples even harder, bigger. I could tilt my head down and lick them, which of course I watched myself do. I lifted up my little skirt to look at my pussy, and I felt my waist, so impossibly small. And most of all I gasped for air. Suki had gone into another room, and she returned with a new surprise. She approached me as I touched my new body, and she slapped a leather collar around my neck. To this she attached a short leash. I was momentarily stunned, but I didn’t try to stop her. Once it was attached, she jerked on it, which threw my off balance. “Suki, what are you doing?” She barked out a command in Japanese that I didn’t understand and kept jerking on the leash. Finally I was pulled off balance, and I fell to my hands and knees. “Good girl,” Suki said then. I looked up at her from the floor and saw her giggling to herself. “You like a big slutty dog with your ass in the air,” she said. She pulled sharply on the leash, and began to walk me around the room. I padded along as best I could on my hands and knees. She kept laughing and wanting to go faster. But every time she jerked the leash and I felt the tug on my neck, I felt desire course through me. I hung out my tongue. I wanted to catch up to Suki, and I wanted to lick every inchy of her beautiful petite body. And I was panting, because the corset I wore made it hard for me to get any air. When she grew tired of running me around, she sat in a chair and pulled up her leash, dragging me toward her. She pulled off her panties and opened her legs wide. “Okay doggie,” she said, grabbing my hair when I was close enough and pulling it. “Lick me clean.” On my hands and knees, I buried my face into her luscious cunt, and licked and lapped madly, tasting her delicious juices. She scratched me behind the ears and petted my head while I sucked and licked uncontrollably, slavering her clit with my saliva. At Suki's Ch. 02 So there I was, on my hands and knees, eating Suki's pussy. My own pussy was soaked, and I yearned for it to be filled with something hard. I thought of Suki's black strap-on, and hoped she would deign to fuck me with it again, as she had before. The very thought of it made me bite and suck her clit with renewed urgency. I was feeling feverish, and blood was pounding in my temples. I was dizzy; it was so hard to breathe with the corset I was wearing laced up so tightly. Suki had made it for me, as she had the rest of the clothes I was wearing: the silk blouse that conformed to the narrow waist the corset gave me while cupping my breasts, which seemed so much larger now in proportion to my new figure, in soft pouches, white, translucent pillows of silk; the obscenely short skirt which barely covered the curve of my ass,-- accentuated by the corset, which made me stick it out -- and did not reach the tops of the thigh-high stockings I wore. And of course, the leather collar strapped around my neck, to which the leash Suki held was attached. She had been walking me around the room like a prize pony, or an obedient dog eager for attention. The truth is, even though the position Suki had put me in was completely humiliating, leashed and chained as I was, it had awakened an arrogance in me nonetheless, a confidence that I should strutting myself around like I was purely sexual, like I was an animal was irresistible mating call would make all the other animals chase me and beautiful cunt. And I felt like a mere animal; all I could think about was my wet cunt, and fucking, while I licked like crazy at Suki's pussy, licking until I knew she was coming, wishing I was coming too. I was feeling almost jealous, and I thought about biting her clit right off, so hungry was I for my own to be loved and sucked and licked and played with. But this wasn't to be. I waited patiently, staring at myself in the revealing clothes so unlike anything I typically wear, while Suki bathed herself. Even though she didn't require it, I stayed on my hands and knees, preferring to stay in an animalistic mode. I reached back underneath the skirt and played with myself, all the time watching myself in the mirror, dreaming Suki was behind me, taking me doggy-style with her strap-on cock. I was on the brink of making myself come, when Suki reappeared. "You stop that!" she said in her accented English, her sultry voice taking on a note of impatience. "Naughty American girl, always thinking of herself." She clapped her hands, and looked at me in the mirror. "You a real slut," she said. She grabbed my leash and pulled me up to my feet. "Stand up," she said. "We see what a slut you are." She told me to put my arms behind my back, and then she bound my wrists together with what felt like an elastic silk. It didn't hurt, but it made it impossible for me to bring my hands back in front of my body. Standing like that, totally vulnerable, seemed to amuse Suki. "Look at my big American whore," she said, lifting my skirt to stare at my gleaming, glistening wet cunt. "You'll do good." I didn't fully know what she meant, until she finally led me outside, out into her neighborhood in the city. Never before had I felt so ashamed, appearing in public as I was dressed, where any slight breeze would blow up my skirt and show my cunt to everyone who bothered to notice. And they would see how wet I would be, how hopelessly shameless I was. It couldn't be worse if I was totally naked, scampering through the streets. And it was obvious to everyone that I was involved in some kind of crazy sex game with another woman, seeing as Suki was leading me along by leash. I wasn't the type who liked for everyone to know my lesbian tendencies, so this was extremely embarrassing to me. We didn't even make it to the corner before we passed people in the street, all Asians, who all stared at me like I was from Mars. Some of them stared, some quickly looked down at the ground, others laughed and nudged each other, nodding over at the spectacle that I was. All of this made me blush deep red with shame, and all of it made me wetter and wetter. The corset made it hard for me to take in much air, too, so I was already dizzy and ready to swoon. My nipples were so hard, I thought they would pierce the silk. They were plain to see for anyone passing by. I longed to cover myself, but my hands were bound. Suki led me to an big open-aired market, where there were throngs of people and a myriad of booths selling everything from vegetables to socks to computer manuals to translations of the Koran to jewelry to butchered pigs. It was the strangest bazaar I had ever seen, made stranger by the fact that no one communicated in English. I seemed to be the only American there. As Suki led me through the crowd, men began to have there way with me surreptitiously, tweaking my obviously hard nipples, caressing my stockinged thighs, patting my ass. The more daring of them darted their hands up my skirt and grabbed what they could. I could hear them laughing and cavorting with each other as we passed. I came to feel like a complete object, like just another one of things for sale there, to be handled and squeezed and played with as the customers saw fit. I was partially furious, but partially I felt responsible, as if my complete arousal was drawing people to me, inviting them to touch me, to fondle my vulnerable body. I still didn't feel natural in the posture the corset forced me to assume, with my breasts and ass thrust out on either side of me. My hands tied behind my back only accentuated this pose, which felt extremely lewd and enticing to me. A wrinkled old man began to talk to Suki, and they carried out a long discussion in Japanese that I couldn't understand. During the course of it Suki let him touch my breasts and lift my skirt, whereupon he plunged a short stubby finger into my soaking pussy and then smelled it. He nodded to Suki, and talked some more. Finally Suki tugged my leash and said, "Say something. He think you're typically Russian whore. Say something to show you're American." I didn't know what to say. I stood there dumbfounded for a moment, until Suki pulled the leash again, jerking my neck and making me stumble. "Say something, stupid," she said. "My name is Karen Gratton. I live in New York. I was born in Nebraska . . ." The Japanese man cut me off and started talking to Suki in Japanese again, and she nodded and laughed, and then she was leading me by the neck to an alley around the corner from the bazaar. There, in the alley, amidst the smell of rotting fruit and spent cooking oil, Suki pushed me over a stack of pallets. I felt my skirt get lifted, and then the Japanese man began to fuck me from behind. I was both startled, humiliated, and extremely turned on, and the moment he stuck his cock in me I knew it would make me come. I was already so pent up from walking around in the outfit and from having my face buried in Suki's cunt before. While he fucked me, in quick jerking spasms, I watched Suki's face as she held the leash. She was smiling her strange, enigmatic smile, staring back at me. "Fuck the American whore," she said, lowly, more to me than to the man, who was far too busy reaming me to pay much attention. I began to gasp from the force with which he was hitting my back side, pushing me against the pallets, forcing what little air I could get into my lungs out. Moaning, tears rolling down my face, now, from both humiliation and joy at being so close to coming, I continued to grind against the pallets, continued to watch Suki's face. "Oh, God," I said to her, "Fuck me. Please fuck me." It had been a long time since a man's cock was in me. I watched Suki and dreamed it was hers; that it was her doing it to me. I couldn't believe what was happening to me. I had hard time making eye contact with the women I have first dates with, but here I was being used violently in an alley by a perfectly repugnant strange old Japanese man, and not only that, he was going to make me come, which no man had ever done. The man kept fucking me, and when he began to jerk with his orgasm, it triggered something me, and I began to quiver uncontrollably, then shake, the force of a long-building orgasm surging through me, so strong I though the corset might burst apart. "Ohhh," I moaned as I spent myself. At Suki's Ch. 03 Needless to say, after my last encounter with Suki, I was quite shaken. I hadn't expected to ever have sex with a man again, let alone an anonymous old Asian man in an alley in broad daylight. The memory of it repulsed me, filled me with revulsion, especially since I remembered how eagerly I cooperated with Suki, and let her prostitute me. I was clearly deranged when I was in her company, and I decided it wasn't safe for me to ever see her again. Nevertheless the thought of her haunted me, and what she had done to me had changed me. I started noticing men on the subway, old, twisted men with gnarled hands and pocked faces, and inevitably, despite myself, I would begin to think of what it would be like to have their cocks in my mouth, or in my pussy, and whether it would make Suki smile to see it. I would start getting wet at the sight of some hideous old man, and it would infuriate me, make me beside myself with frustration. I kept recalling the old man who fucked me in the alley, I saw his face in my mind, unwanted, when I masturbated, which, I confess, I did frequently, even more so since I had come to know Suki. And every time I saw a slim, black-haired Asian on the train, my heart would begin to pound and I would think for an adrenalized moment that it was her. Sometimes it was any woman with short hair that would start me going. I thought about my fingers running through that short spiky hair while that beautiful little head was between my legs, licking me, caressing my clitoris with a moist tongue. I could feel my face burn; I would want to pant with desire, at these strangers, at these mere shadows of her. I could still smell her, that unmistakable musk that makes me salivate; I could still taste her sweat, pure ambrosia to me. I tried to be good. I deleted Suki's number from my cell phone. I tried to pretend I'd never met her. I even tried to rekindle my relationship with Julia, one of my old girlfriends who I ran into by chance at a bar on Avenue C. Lithe, rail-thin, she sparked something in me. She had a flimsy T-shirt on with no bra on underneath, and even in the darkness I could see her nipples bud against the fabric. I bought her a bourbon and water, which I remembered was he favorite drink, and soon my hand was in her back pocket, caressing her ass, and soon her hand was up my skirt. "I never thought you were the skirt wearing type," she purred in my ear, stroking my pussy through my underwear. Still, when she kissed me in the cab to her place, I was thinking of Suki. The whole time we made love, I was thinking of her, thinking of myself in the mirror in the outrageous outfit she made me wear, me with the dog collar around my neck, basically topless in the crowded market, me with that old man's cock in me while Suki just laughed at me. I squeezed my eyes shut as Julia ate me out. I wanted to be swept away, but ultimately I had to imagine a scenario where Suki was watching me sucking the penis of a giant Great Dane, like the one my Uncle Clete had when I was a girl, to finally come to orgasm. So when Suki called me and left a message on my phone, I didn't wait long to call her back. And soon I was preparing myself in the mirror again, wearing a tight sweater to bulge out my breasts, and a short skirt and thigh-high stockings that emphasized my long legs, putting on slutty makeup and crimson lipstick, even a little gloss to make my lips shine. Soon I was making that long train trip out to her neighborhood, uncomfortable with the looks the Latino men were giving me on the train, like I was a nothing but a tramp, put on this earth for them to leer at. And soon I was threading through those same strange streets in her neighborhood to her apartment, teetering on the heels I wore, whose every clack on the pavement seemed to draw more attention to me. When I arrived, I was overcome by her, finally present, in the flesh, in front of me for real after all those nights I had dreamt about her, touching myself. Her hair was a little longer than I remembered it, almost a bob now. She had on just a black bra and silk boxer shorts. I had forgotten how luminescent her golden brown skin was, how mesmerizing were her cool green eyes. I wanted to drop to my knees and lick her legs up and down. I could see the aureoles of her breasts through the black lace of the bra, chocolate halos I wanted so badly to kiss. She had a new costume for me to put on. "I like what you're wearing" she said, running her hand casually over my chest, over the tight sweater, making my nipples spring out immediately, painfully, so badly did I wish she would linger on them, tease them some more. "But I have special costume for you." She undressed me, rolling my stockings down my legs, and then my panties, rubbing her breasts against me as she did, driving me insane. I kept trying to touch her, to stroke her between her thighs or across her belly, but she eluded me. "No time for that," she said. She had what was an extremely lewd schoolgirl outfit that she wanted me to wear. What made it so provocative was the pleated plaid skirt which barely reached my thighs, which were bare above the knee-length ribbed white wool stockings she put on me. It barely reached over my ass. And the translucent white blouse she buttoned across my chest was extremely form-fitting, it emphasized the size of my breasts, so much more ample than you'd ever see on a real schoolgirl. My breasts made a mockery of the whole pretense that I was a little girl, and that made all the more sexual -- much more so than if I would have been topless. And she had shiny black patent leather Mary Janes for me to wear, which she buckled on my feet. Looking in the mirror at me, she smiled her strange cruel smile. "You look perfect," she squealed, as she pulled my hair into pigtails. "Perfect." I felt so strange looking at myself. I adjusted my glasses; suddenly they seemed so strange on my face. I tried a girlish pout, and it suited my get-up perfectly. Then I was ashamed of myself, pouting like that, the way all the girls in high school I hated used to simper at the boys. Here I was acting just like them at the first opportunity. I pulled on my pigtails and pouted some more. I bit my glossy red lip. I couldn't help myself. I had never looked so sexy as this when I actually was in school. I turned around and looked over my shoulder at myself, saw just how much of my ass was exposed: I could basically see the pucker beneath both my cheeks, and the elastic rim of the stark white panties Suki made me put on. I continued to admire myself, my nipples growing harder and harder. Almost absently, I had begun to touch myself with slow lingering motions, rubbing underneath my heaving breasts though the blouse, and my thighs, above the tops of the wool stockings. I was getting myself all worked up, and I could see by the way Suki was staring at me that I was getting her worked up too. Or at least I hoped so. She grabbed my wrists, and I thought she was going to guide my hands to her body and let them play, but instead she quickly bound them with coils of ribbon behind my back. "Be good, pretty American girl," she said. "Don't struggle. You like it anyway." Then she guided me into another room, which had been almost completely emptied out save for a stool sitting in the middle of the room. She had me sit on the stool, and then she turned out the lights, and locked me in. I didn't know what was happening, but I was burning to touch myself, and my hands were still bound. Suki had me wetter than ever, and I wished for her presence near me. I thought about getting off the stool and trying to rub myself against one of its legs, trying to relieve myself some how. I'm not sure how much time passed, but soon the door opened, and Suki turned on the light. Men began to file in, their heads looking down, though they couldn't help but steal glances at me, bashfully at first, and then with more lingering audaciousness. They were all Asian men, all in their forties from what I could tell. There seemed to about twenty of them packing into the room. Most of them were dressed in shirts and ties, some of them had briefcases with them. They didn't look at each other at all, and none of them spoke to one another. They seemed to be as strange to each other as they were to me. Suki entered last, after they had all were in. She was fully dressed now, wearing a smart, professional looking business suit and glasses. She began to talk to the men in a stern, stentorian voice, in a language I didn't understand. Then she addressed me. "Off the school American girl," she barked, and I obeyed. She pulled the stool away and sat on it herself, in the corner of the room. For a few minutes, nothing happened. The men just stared furtively at me and shuffled their feet. I stood there awkwardly, my hands tied, feeling extremely exposed in my ludicrous schoolgirl outfit, my nipples still painfully, obviously erect, even though these men, as a group, collectively disgusted me. I tried to watch Suki's face, but it was like I was invisible to her. That was most painful of all, and it made me desperate to touch her, to kiss her. She began to shout out some admonitions in Japanese, and then the men began to stir and approach me. A gaggle of five or six squeezed in on me, and suddenly I felt their hands all over me, touching my breasts, my waist, my thighs, my stockings, rubbing up and down my body, hands everywhere, all at once, I couldn't hardly tell what was happening. It was hard to keep my balance with my hands tied, and I found myself leaning into the men, trying not to fall, and turning and twisting this way and that, spinning around in place as wave after of wave of the men came at me. None of them looked at me, none of them said anything; they all seemed to be pretending they weren't touching me at all, that I wasn't even there. But I could feel them. One had pulled my panties aside and tried to jam a quick finger in me. Admittedly, I was so wet, it would splashed right in me. Buttons were coming open on my blouse; I don't know how it was happening. I was jostled around continuously, and soon I was breathing heavily, exhausted at the way my body was being used, and at my arms being stuck in such an awkward position behind my body. I tried to find Suki but I couldn't keep focused on her. I kept being knocked around; there were too many probing hands, lurking fingers. My stockings were almost pulled off. One was rolled down to my ankle; the other I felt being pulled up again by a surreptitious hand. Finally I lost my balance completely and crumpled to my knees. And then I noticed for the first time that some of the men had their flies open and their erect penises pulled out so that they could jerk themselves off. On my knees now, they turned to face me. I saw more men pull their cocks out, quickly making themselves hard, jostling their way to be close to me. I had never seen so many cocks before, so many different shapes and sizes. Some were stubby and short, others were long and bent, some were hard to see because they were being jerked so furiously. I realized with a growing horror that they were planning to ejaculate all over me. I tried to find Suki in the crowd but all I could see were hard cocks waving in my face, all I could hear was the locomotive breathing of all these men jerking off at the sight of me. My first impulse was to try to cover my face, buy my arms were bound, and I couldn't protect myself. Still, part of me was flattered, part of me was extremely turned on with an intensity that bordered on nausea. Here were all these men rock hard at the sight of me in the short skirt and stockings, and the sight of my bulbous breasts hanging out of the once tight blouse, which now was nearly all undone. My nipples were still completely hard, yearning to be touched, and I hoped despite myself that there would soon be come rolling down the tops of my tits, just so that my nipples would feel some kind of contact. In fact, I realized I was arching my back, hoping to catch the first loads there on the top of my chest. It wasn't long though before the first man, a short old Chinese man with a long thin cock, came, an explosive gob that struck me right on my cheek, warm and viscous, like a wad of micro-waved marmalade. I could feel it squirming down toward my chin, even as the next wad dripped on my shoulder and upper arm. This seemed to set off a chain reaction, and soon several men were coming, exploding all over me, covering my hair and my forehead, and thank God, my breasts, with their thick steaming loads of semen. I had to close my eyes because there was come all over them. The smell of it all was overpowering, like a freshly cut lawn, but ten times more intense, overwhelmingly earthly. Eventually I broke down and opened my mouth and began licking around my face, tasting the sperm, drinking it in. I had never swallowed semen before. While I was down there on my knees, with my eyes closed, licking my face, I could hear the men groaning, grunting, sighing with release as they came. Some muttered things in languages I couldn't understand, but I decided that they were words of encouragement, so suddenly I found myself playing it up for them, exaggerating my lacking the come off my face, shaking my come drenched tits for them, swiveling and swaying for them. I continued to feel their come shower me. I never felt so depraved. Above it all, I could hear ever so faintly in the background, Suki's cruel little giggle. Even still, I couldn't stop myself; it was turning me on too much to flaunt myself in my slutty state. I even thought at that moment I would die to have one of those sweaty Asian cocks inside of me, in my mouth, in my cunt, in my ass, anywhere. Finally the men were finished. I was above begging Suki to finish me off, to make me come. I begged her. I couldn't even see her; my eyes were stuck shut by the all the come on my face. But then I felt someone lift me to my feet. I felt Suki's small soft hands on me, helping me. I was so grateful. I finally cracked my eyes open in time to see her open the zipper on the pants of her business suit and pull the black rubber knob of her strap-on out. I almost shrieked with delight. She didn't have to ask me to bend myself over the stool she had brought over. And then, as the spent Asian men watched, she lifted the tiny, cum-soaked skirt I wore up over my ass, and slipped the black rubber rod into my soaked cunt. "Oooh" I gasped as she slid it in and out of me, slowly at first, and then with merciless strokes that I could feel all the way up to my cervix. Some of the men, I saw when I looked up, were getting hard again. I didn't care, I was coming, coming, coming at last. At Suki's Ch. 04 After the men had left, the Asian men who had just finished coming all over my face, my hair up in pigtails, my arms, my legs, and the ludicrously lurid schoolgirl outfit Suki had made for me, I pleaded with Suki to unbind me. I wanted to wash myself up, for one thing, but more than that I wanted to touch her, run my hands over her body, help her off with the gray business suit she wore. The black dildo she had reamed me with still hung obscenely through the open zipper of the trousers. I wanted to help her off with that, as well, and get to her sweet pussy and lick her dry if she'd let me. She unbound my hands, but she wouldn't let me touch her. "You're all filthy," she said. "All those dirty men's stuff all over you." She put her hands on her hips, the black phallus swinging between her legs. "You go home. Fix yourself up." I asked her for the clothes I had worn to her place, and she just laughed. "Don't be silly," she said. Apparently I was going to have to come home in the obscene schoolgirl costume, with dried come all over it. I pulled the wool stockings back up over my knees, and tried to brush off some of the dried flakes from the blouse, which was stuck to my skin in various places where wads of semen had struck me. I peeled it free and tried to button it up again over my breasts, which was difficult because the blouse was designed to be so tight. And it was translucent, so anyone could see my nipples right through it, as well as every curve of my bosom, the size of which has always made me self-conscious. And the high-waisted plaid skirt I had on barely reached my thighs, and I wore no panties. On my way home, not only would I reek of sex and semen, but anyone who cared to could see my pussy right up my skirt. I didn't know what to do. I had no choice but to try to make it home like this. Walking through the confusing unfamiliar streets in Suki's neighborhood at night was extremely scary to me, and now I was dressed as a target, just begging to be assaulted, to be taken. I couldn't possibly be wearing something that screamed "please fuck me" more. Inevitably, a man began to follow me. I didn't want him to see me looking at him, so I wasn't sure what he looked like. He seemed to be short, wore a tan Members Only jacket and khakis, and he walked with a stoop, so he was probably older. I couldn't shake him though. The patent-leather Maryjane shoes that Suki had made me wear were already giving me blisters, making every step jarringly painful. I made it to the subway, but the man followed me on to the platform. It was late, so there was nobody else around that I could see. Maybe a few lonely souls down at the other end, but they hardly noticed us. They looked to be homeless people, sleeping in their clothes with their plastic bags piled around them. I prayed for the train to come soon. I could feel the short little man's gaze burning into me. I scratched nervously at my stockings, tried in vain to make my skirt cover more of my thighs, cover some of that bare skin between the tops of the stockings and the skirt's bottom edge. But it was useless. The longer we waited, the more self-conscious, the more afraid I became, and the more fear I felt, the harder I could feel my nipples were becoming, until they jutted out against the fabric of my tight blouse, making my arousal unmistakable. I could sense the man coming closer. I didn't know what I could do. Finally I turned to face him. He was taken aback for a moment, but then I saw that his hands were fishing around in his pockets. I realized that he had been playing with himself, just watching me. At first I was completely nauseated -- he was an obviously harmless little man, bland, balding, well over fifty. But he was no threat. I was a fool to have been scared. And then I thought about how he probably hadn't had a thrilling sexual experience in decades, that this night, this chance meeting he had with me on the street might fuel his masturbatory fantasies for years to come. And that idea got me turned on. I took a quick look around and saw that no one else could see us. And then I slowly lifted my skirt. "Stay where you are," I said quietly. "You can only look." He nodded that he understood. I kept the skirt lifted and swayed my hips a little, getting into it. "Do you like what you see?" I asked. He nodded again, furiously. I could see him fists pumping away in his pocket, his legs shifting as he tried to get better angles to stroke his cock. "I can tell you like it," I said. Hearing myself talk this way, all slutty and seductive, was making me hot. I could feel myself getting wet as he stared in at my pussy. I started to touch myself as he watched. "Look at my cunt," I said, rubbing my pussy lips with my fingers, slipping my index finger up inside myself. "You like the way I touch it?" Obviously I was still in a delirious state from my experience at Suki's, when all those men, all those cocks were coming on me. It had deprived me of the ability to see the possibility of any human transaction being anything other than sexual. I mean, all those strangers came into that room and promptly pulled out their penises and masturbated right before my eyes, and because of me, because of the way I was dressed, because of the way I am shaped, because of what I was obviously willing to do. I never know it could feel so powerful, submitting. I sat down on the filthy bench by the garbage can so that I could play with myself more easily. My cunt was suddenly on fire again, as wet and pulsating as it was when I was tied up at Suki's. I couldn't get the image of those men jerking themselves off out of my mind, nor could I forget Suki, in the business suit that made her seem so much older, so much more mature, her sparkling, laughing eyes, drinking in my humiliation with delight. I had to sit down. I didn't want to lose my balance and fall onto the tracks or something. I kept my eyes locked on the unassuming little man, working on himself through the pockets of his khakis. He watched me, too, my skirt folded back, one pair of fingers spreading my cunt open, another three fingers slicing inside me, god, it felt so raw, so amazing. I could tell by the way the man was squirming that he was coming into his pants. I would've started to come myself, if I hadn't heard the train approaching. The man followed me on the train. We sat across from each other on the car. I was extremely turned on, and the men already on the car all stared at me, of course, seeing how I was dressed. I wanted desperately to come, but I didn't know if I could do it with such an audience. The thought of all these strangers jerking off at the sight of me pleasing myself was intensely erotic, an extreme turn on, but I wasn't sure if I was ready for them to be gang raping me; that was not such a turn on, and the way I was dressed was a plain invitation to that. Still I wanted to touch my pussy. I rubbed my ass back and forth on the hard plastic seat, trying to generate some friction. I tugged on my blouse so it would pull the silk taut against my hard nipples and tease them, and that felt overpoweringly delicious. The man who had already come on the platform still watched me; he knew what I was up to. But I could bring myself to do it, I could not get myself on the train. I had to wait until I got home, where I could stare at my shockingly disheveled self, my hair in pigtails, still clumped and sticky with dried semen, my breasts heavy, heaving against the tight blouse, the plaid schoolgirl skirt covering nothing, the wool stockings pulled up to my thighs, sticky with come themselves, God I hardly recognized myself, and what I saw in the mirror turned me on incredibly. I saw this used fuck slut, a piece of meat that I wanted my own piece of. I started to suck on my thumb, watching myself, pretending it was some old solemn hard-faced Asian guy's cock. My other thumb I was thrusting in and out of my throbbing pussy. I sucked and sucked, watching the slutty me in the mirror all covered in semen, until finally I got myself off, spasming on the hardwood floor in front of the mirror. When I woke up the next day, I was filled with shame. I called out of work. I didn't want to leave my apartment. I didn't want to face other people. I felt like the horror of what I had done would be written all over me, would be obvious to anyone who would see me. And other people seem frightening to me, it seemed like their sexuality might leap out from them at any given moment and expose itself. The whole city suddenly seemed like a crazy cauldron of uncontrolled lust and I just needed a break. I felt sexed out, overwhelmed by sex; and I just wanted to be able to think about something else for a change. But spending the day alone wasn't any way to stop thinking about sex. I spent most of the morning naked in my bed, a hand between my legs, gently playing with myself as thought of Suki drifted through my consciousness. I thought of her with her legs around my head while I would suck and nibble on her clit, and the cooing little moans she made. I thought about her tiny hands on waist as she took me with the strap on from behind, her delicate fingers digging in. And I thought of her sweet little mouth on my nipples, and how big and bountiful my breasts seemed when she was sucking so gently on them, and how special it made me feel when I put on the outfits she designed for me, even though they made me into a helpless object. It seemed like she was so far away from me, even though I was just with her last night. Sometimes when she looks at me, I forget who I am. I forget everything and get completely lost in her gaze. The passion melts me, dissolves boundaries between my body and my mind. All those crazy sentimental notions in love songs, about losing yourself and giving all of yourself and feeling such immense joy and incredible pain; I start to understand those things like I never have before in my life. I used to think that kind of intensity was just made up, was just fantasy. But now I know it can really happen to me, and now I am having a hard time living without it. I want to be on that high permanently. Inevitably, when I finally got out of bed I decided to put the white wool stockings back on, even though they were slightly crusty still. I sat naked in front of my mirror and pulled the first one on, up over my knee and mid way up my thigh. Even though the white made my leg look a little chubby, I suddenly felt much more naked with that one stocking on than I felt before when I wore nothing. I had made my own body erotic to myself again just by wearing that filthy stocking, which immediately made me see what those men saw when they look at me and became turned on. I licked my lips, then licked my fingers, and then played with my clit as I watched myself, naked save for the stockings. I tweaked my nipples with my moist fingers, made them hard so I could bend my head down and lick them, suck on them. I never used to be able to turn myself on like this, until I started to have my adventures with Suki. Now I felt electric with erotic potential at every moment. I used to get depressed when I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a window or a mirror, now I get excited, now I think about getting fucked. I didn't want to be alone anymore. But I didn't know how to get a hold of Suki. So I called Julia, and I begged her to come over to my apartment. "Please, Julia," I said. "I'll do anything for you. I will make you feel so good." When she came over, I still had the thigh-highs on, and the Mary Jane shoes, and the plaid skirt, and a plain white bra that shoved my breasts up and out. "What are you wearing?" Julia said when she saw me. "Have you lost it or something?" "Don't I look sexy?" I asked. "You look like you're an overgrown thirteen year old," she said. "Exactly. Don't I look sexy?" Julia moved closer to me with a half sneer on her face. She didn't know what to make of me. She had always known me to be a little butch, and this outfit that exaggerated my curves was something she had never seen from me before. I sat down on the couch and lifted up my skirt for her. "Look," I said. "Look how clean I am." I was restless waiting for her, so I shaved off most of my pubic hair while I was waiting, leaving only a inch wide strip above my slit, which I was now petting with my fingers. "This is a mistake," Julia said. "I shouldn't have come here." She was dressed in a black T-shirt and jeans, no bra. She didn't really need one. She was pretty flat-chested. The shirt hung on her shoulders like it would on a wire hanger and emphasized how emaciated she was. I always was self-conscious when I was with her about how much bigger than her I am, in just about every way. Bigger breasts, bigger hands, longer legs, wider hips. She was more like a prepubescent boy then she was a woman, and the way she kept her hair cropped short and her body underfed and the way she dressed all served to reinforce this impression. When she was naked you could see her ribcage clearly defined below the little buds of her breasts. I used to like to be with her because she was quick and funny, and we got on well, of course, but also because being with her made me less aware of my own femininity, which has always felt onerous to me, a kind of unfair judgment or expectation. With her, I always thought about her androgynous body and forgot my own. But now I was hyperconscious of my own, in love with its bounty. I kept stroking what was left of my pubic hair, trying to arouse her. I could tell by how she was transfixed that she was becoming interested. I wanted Julia to want me too, wanted her to stop thinking of me as cerebral and sexless. "I can be a sweet little girl for you," I cooed, making myself a little wetter. I couldn't tell, maybe I was imagining it, but I thought I could see her nipples stiffening beneath her T-shirt. "We can play pretend," I went on. "Pretend I'm the popular straight girl in school you always wanted but never had the nerve to ask, even though you had your suspicions, you know, the way she looked at your body, the way she held your glance for a moment too long." "God, what's gotten into you, Karen?" she asked. "You're acting like some kind of sex fiend." "What's fiendish about sex?" I said. "Come on. Didn't you ever wonder what it would be like to have the cheerleader's legs wrapped around your head, to be under her skirt eating her sweet virgin pussy while she was half turned on half mortified, wondering what had gotten into her? Didn't you ever wish you could put a hand under the skirts of those girls at the Catholic school, didn't you ever dream of opening their legs and diving in?" I spread my legs wide. "I'm here." "Karen. You're freaking me out," Julia said. "What's the matter?" I said, keeping my legs apart while I fingered my clit. "Afraid of what you see? I know you're uptight. I know you're squeamish, but maybe you ought to let go a little." "Stop it Karen, okay?" "You don't want to talk about it? What are you afraid of? Look at my pussy. It's what you want. Look at my breasts; they're what you want. Why are you pretending they're not. I know I've got the tits you've always dreamed of having. Come play with them." I could see that Julia was getting angry. I was needling her in places where I knew she was self-conscious. "You don't need to be embarrassed. Just because your parents think you are a freak of nature. I don't. I'm glad you're gay. I'm glad you want to fuck me. Don't you want to fuck me? Look at me." Julia moved closer to me. She was seething; I could tell. "You're being a cunt, Karen," she said. "I'm being naughty," I said. "And I know what naughty girls deserve." "Now you want me to spank you? Is that it, you freaky bitch? Get your fucking hands off yourself," she said. "You want me to hit you, I'll hit you," she continued and she gave me a shove that knocked me over. I saw that she was undoing the belt she had around her waist. "I'll give you a few smacks, see how you like it. It's not fucking sex fun and games. It's fucking pain, you stupid bitch." She sat down on the couch and I immediately leaned over her knee. I wasn't sure what had gotten in to me, but I needed her to punish me. I knew I had been bad; I'd been wanting punishment ever since I fucked that Chinese man in the alley at Suki's behest. Finally someone was treating me with the kind of contempt I had been feeling deep down for myself, the contempt that came hand in hand with the feeling of being irresistibly fuckable, of being out in public with men's eyes searing into me, devouring my big tits and my long legs and my ass. "You're a silly little girl, you know that?" Julia said when I assumed the position. This wouldn't be the first time she spanked me. It was something we always played with. I would misbehave around her, or tease her about her parents or her job or her body until she started to wrestle with me, and then finally I would get her to spank me. Sometimes I would start to cry when she hit me hard. Sometimes I would call her mommy and tell her to stop, and then she would let me suck on her nipple just like she really was my mommy. This kind of thing usually happened at Julia's place. She had a ivory hairbrush that she had stolen from her mother that she usually used on my bare bottom to spank me, but today she was using her belt. She lifted the plaid skirt up to expose my naked ass and then folded the belt in half and cracked the two ends together with a thwap. My feet were up on the sofa and my toes were curled in a ball; my stomach was knotted in anticipation, awaiting the first blow. "You have to learn the hard way, don't you," Julia said, and cracked me hard across my ass, twice, with two quick blows. "That's what happens to bad girls," she said. I felt I was getting wetter, and I couldn't decide what I wanted more, for her to put her fingers inside me or for her to hit me again. She hit me again, and again, and again. It was painful, but I deserved it, after exposing myself to that man on the subway like that. I was a bad girl, and Julia knew it. She took a momentary break from hitting me to wriggle out from her jeans; I could feel her pushing them down, her hands going underneath me for a moment. I kept my eyes closed, kept thinking about that sad man on the subway and how the sight of me had turned him into a public pervert. In a few days I was at Suki's again. "I've been preparing the rope," she said, pointing to a coil of greased hemp rope curled on the ground at her feet. "I tie you up in it, make you beautiful piece of art," she said. I knew at once that this was what I wanted, to be tied up, exposed, to be opened up to sexually voracious view, and to have no possible way of covering myself. I am constantly ashamed of my sexuality -- in a way, of being a woman. I am always slumping my shoulders, trying to hide my breasts, wearing frumpy and baggy clothes. But Suki was forcing me out of this, turning my sexual shame into the most powerful aphrodisiac imaginable. When I was with her I was in a constant state of shame, and arousal. They seemed to be one and the same thing. Watching her uncoil the rope, my heart started to beat fast and I began to blush as I thought of myself bound and helpless, seeing myself as I did in the mirror when I masturbated, only stretched further open and observed by countless untold others. I hate being the center of attention, but now I would not be able to escape it. Of course I had seen pictures of it before -- shibari, it's called, the Japanese art of sexual rope bondage. I had seen the petite women, naked, with their expressionless faces -- never pained, they seemed far beyond pain -- tied up with parallel loops of rope or spider webs of knots all designed to show the woman's utter sexual availability and total inaccessibility simultaneously. It was like they were living statues, to be looked at and endlessly longed for but never to be touched. At Suki's Ch. 04 One picture has haunted my fantasies for as long as I can remember. It was of a beautiful Japanese girl, no more than eighteen or nineteen, naked and bound tightly like a mummy with her arms behind her back, wrapped from her neck to her ankles in coils of rope, sandwiching her breasts, crushing them, squeezing them into flattened rectangles. I couldn't see this picture without getting turned on. I can't even count how many times I masturbated looking at this picture, sometimes imagining I was playing with her pussy, forcing my way in through the ropes, and sometimes imagining I was the girl, and thinking of how anybody could just do what they wanted with me; they could suck on my nipples, or shove a cock in my mouth, or throw me off the Williamsburg Bridge. First Suki dressed me in a see-through white bra with lace filigree, a well-fitted blue and white striped blouse, a short pleated skirt, a garter belt with pale silk stockings attached to them with suspenders, and black high-heeled pumps. Of course I wasn't wearing any panties. Then she sat me in a chair, and she began to tie me down to it, wrapped a series of coils right around my waist, which made it a bit hard for me to breathe. I gasped, but Suki ignored me. She had opened the blouse and adjusted the bra so that my left breast was totally exposed but the other was covered. Now she ringed the rope around my exposed breast, squeezing it into a cylinder. It wasn't long before it began to purple. She tied one of my legs to a chair leg, binding it so my knee pointed in toward my body. My other leg she extended completely so that my vagina was open to full view. As Suki circled around me, repositioning my ankle or my wrist, adjusting a detail of my open blouse or my skirt, I had time to drink in her beauty anew, and appreciate yet again its power to enslave me, to make me comply with any of her commands. She had chosen this occasion to look both amazingly glamorous and innocent, even as she was binding my semi-naked body. As she was applying deep red lipstick to my lips I noticed her perfect face, so flawlessly smooth, so symmetrical, comprised of so many concentric circles, of her eyes, her cheeks, her moist mouth, and accentuated by the curve of her lashes, the curve of her brow, the pucker of her chin. Her deep black hair, short and shaped in waves across her forehead, framed her face perfectly. She moved with such efficiency and grace, the way I never could with my oafish body, my breasts and ass always jutting out, in the way, making me feel like I was spilling all over the place. No, Suki's body was a slim, continuous line. Today she wore a beige knee-length skirt that belled in at the knees before a few inches of lacy trim, and fully fashioned white fishnet stockings underneath, and shiny black leather pumps that seemed to vintage from the 50s, the kind of shoes I'd seen in black and white movies. She took a sip from a twenty-ounce Top Pop bottle of orange soda. I could see a trace of red from her own lipstick on the bottle's mouth. As she circled around me, a breeze of cool air tickled my naked and exposed inner thighs, raising goose bumps. I strained for a moment to cover myself, only to realize how tightly I was bound. the best I could do was contort my arm slightly, which prompted Suki merely to position it back how she wanted it. I had become her living work of art, and though I knew that this meant that I should feel anything, that those who looked at me would assume I felt nothing, that I was a kind of breathing statue, still I felt more aroused than I have ever felt, aware of how sexually prone every inch of my body was capable of feeling, even the ends of hair, which Suki was now styling carefully -- every brush stroke she made through my hair made me wetter and wetter. When she was finished, she took a few steps back from me and looked intently at me. God, I was so turned on at that moment, I thought just the caress of her eyes could make me come. My arms were tied behind my back and my legs were spread wide open and my cunt was swollen and wet. "You are so beautiful," Suki said. "Like a piece of art. A great big piece of American art." Several hours later, a party began. I was there, but I wasn't. Men and women, mostly Asian, dressed elegantly and conservatively, all admired me the way they would an interesting knickknack on a mantle piece, and then they mostly ignored me. One woman flicked my nipple once, just to hear me grunt, just to make sure I was alive. Unable to move, unable to act, I was free from desire in a way, and I experienced nothing but pure sensation. I wanted for nothing, but I felt everything; God, did I feel everything. The slightest touch on my skin would send infinite ripplings of warmth and pleasure through my body, echoing endlessly in my body with nothing to prevent the feeling from expanding and expanding. Time became meaningless. I don't know how long I was tied in that position. Perhaps it was hours, perhaps it was days. I was so thoroughly objectified it was like I had become pure body, and there was no mind to fathom things like time, space, extension. I was simply there, being, experiencing, and I understood of the first time the ineffable, unspeakable, limitless joy of simply being, the divine pleasure of merely being alive and nothing more. What more could we want than that?