Hanging In Japan: The First Trial

Hanging In Japan: The First Trial

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Summary

Dallas Sears is a Curator. Her exciting career takes her to exotic locations all over the world as she seeks to secure priceless kink art, artefacts and antiquities for clients. An assignment to Japan pits her against the reclusive collector Nihon, whom she must please before she gets her prize. However the consequences of his displeasure could make this one job she doesn’t return from.

Summary

Dallas Sears is a Curator. Her exciting career takes her to exotic locations all over the world as she seeks to secure priceless kink art, artefacts and antiquities for clients. An assignment to Japan pits her against the reclusive collector Nihon, whom she must please before she gets her prize. However the consequences of his displeasure could make this one job she doesn’t return from.

Content

Submitted: October 04, 2015

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Content

Submitted: October 04, 2015

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It wasn’t going to be an easy assignment my Grand Master informed me.
“There will be challenges Dallas Sears,” he briefed, “emotional and physical. And there is no tolerance for failure.”
I am a Curator. A Hunter and Collector of art, artefacts and antiquities, but with a difference. These days I operate mainly for The Black Priory, an extensive secret society with a dark underbelly of kink culture. My avowed duty is to seek out, locate and secure the erotic art and relics, objectified by The Priory’s privileged hierarchy.
My obligation here, to recover a priceless gift offered to my Matriarch by a reclusive collector. But nothing’s ever that easy. There was bound to be a catch, there always was. The advantage I had was the diverse skills I’d learned over the last few years. Abilities which now enable me to succeed at just about everything I do.
“Whatever it takes Dallas,” my Grand Master ordered. His was The Word. Well almost.


#


Unexpectedly, I had mere seconds to not only perfect my dress but mentally prepare for what I was about to endure.
Nihon was legendary, yet elusive. Majority in our world knew of him, few knew anything of substance and even fewer had met the most prolific private collector of our sub-cultural icons. My duty was to relieve him of one his most valued possessions.
Little Kiki my Maiko, dressed my kimono with the bow tied curiously to the front per his instructions. As the silhouette of my visitor appeared behind the traditional translucent rice paper wall, Kiki quickly shuffled away abandoning me. The bamboo framed door was rushed aside and Nihon breached the threshold, taking total command of the room.
What he wants - he can take.
Less than two hours ago, I’d arrived in downtown Tokyo after piloting myself from Sydney. I’ve loved the culture of this kingdom ever since my step father introduced me to it as a young child. I’d even lived in this very house for a short period whilst under training.
The tranquil girls afternoon I’d planned, preparing for a relaxed evening out with my Geisha family, had now been blown away by Nihon’s unexpectedly premature presence. I’d made sure the first meeting with him was on familiar ground but judging by his impromptu arrival, Nihon was still dictating terms. Despite so little time to prepare, I hoped only to be perfect in every way to gratify my very special guest.
He strode conventionally barefoot across the floor, effortlessly shedding his formal Samurai robes as he closed the gap between the door and myself. Everything about the room oozed Japanese tradition except for three ritual metallic rings hanging from the rafter above me.
As I stood ridged, arms tucked in front according to custom and revealing no exterior emotion, I could feel my heart racing.
His reputation as a well-structured man registered true as his bare muscular form was revealed. Being so sensorial, I knew my body would react in the usual ways to this Asian revelation.
He stood passionless in front of me, looking intently into my unflinching blue on dark blue eyes. Circling me once, inspecting me like I was a slave for sale, he was so close I could feel his fervent heat radiating through the manicured pleats in the exquisitely fine silk which wrapped my body. Yet still no touch. Contact was only through his eyes as they completed their orbital scan and connected with mine once more.
Shame. He will not violate the purity of this Geisha sanctum.
In a seemingly fluid motion he stripped open the delicately tied bow, ripping open the front of my Geisha garment. As it parted, his right index finger slipped effortlessly between my excited folds.
Don’t move! Don’t react! Follow his rules.
My instructions were clear. But my body did react. I could feel excitement rolling in little beads down the frictionless inside of my right thigh.
Constantly connected with my eyes, expertly he slid his finger in until he hit precisely the pressure point he wanted.
I want it too.
As I stared back motionlessly, I could tell he knew exactly what he was doing. Like a poker player he was sizing me up, his competition, trying to bluff me into folding. As he glimmered into my inner reactions, pressuring me perfectly with his temperate hand, he knew I was already cumming.
I can’t resist.
But I didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing any outward reaction. Intense training taught me how to expertly camouflage, although my body’s automatic response was to allow the flood gates to open.
“The infamous Black Switch.”
The sound of my sobriquet, my fetish name, whispered close to my ear was like a caress, sending a lustful shiver through me as his breath lightly reacted on my skin.
“You are as exquisite as I imagined, with your flame blond western hair and smooth white marble skin.”
His accent surprised. Beautiful, lilting yet powerful, English aristocratic voice coming from the lips of such pure Japanese class.
“In so many ways, you are unlike most in our world.”
You too Nihon.
“Very precious……,” he pondered and his thoughts appeared to drift off as he continued to inspire further reactions from me with his expertly moving digit.
“So you have come to secure my gift for your Matriarch.”
Was that a statement?
Question?
Should I respond?
No. Stay silent!

The tortuous thoughts of being punished for making the wrong decision or even just making a decision in the first place and still being punished, were what I loved about my subservient-self. The excitement of my indecision was as electric as the sensations sparking from his continuing pin point finger massage. I kept silent as he continued pressing me.
“The rules are simple. You understand we shall meet again only if you thrill me today?”
Again, remain silent!
“At our second meeting, if you successfully complete my trial, the Horn of Africa is yours.”
And if I’m unsuccessful – I am yours to keep!
That thought was not one my dominant side wished to comprehend.
He broke away, beckoning loudly in Japanese. A stunningly beautiful girl from his entourage quietly slid the door open.  Carrying an antique Kinchaku drawstring bag, elaborately embroidered in vermillion and gold, she proceeded to place it just in front of Nihon.
Dressed only in a koshimaki, a simple wrap around fabric skirt, her adequate breasts were elegantly set off by erect berry red punished nipples. It was clear she was one of his many in training. As she bent to place the bag in front of her Master, as was it’s intended design, her simple clothing gaped open revealing her perfectly smooth crotch, save for a small short clipped tickler, just as I knew Nihon’s regulations demanded.
I have groomed perfectly.
She looked straight at me as my inner voyeur got excited at everything she visually offered. Her young smooth cheeks rapidly flushed the same colour as her recovering nipples, as her full humiliation came over her.
Nihon smiled, clearly satisfied with the indignity he had caused through his chastening dress code. If this girl survived his preparation, one day she would be an elegant Japanese princess of pain. As she stood restoring her modesty, Nihon walked over to her and stroked her arm, dismissing her respectfully as a reward.
I’m not sure how I remained standing, as my legs went weak watching him empty the contents of his red and gold sack.
Rope! That’s his intention.
Crouched down, his flaccid yet plump penis lightly dragged the floor as his hands moved with purpose, lining up ropes and rigging perfectly, ready for an efficient installation. Done, he stood naked in front of me and my heart sprinted at the unknown of what was to come.
Gently, his hands grasped the two loose sides of my half open kimono fingering the delicate material between his thumbs and palms. Pulling himself in close, I could feel his size through the silk. I prepared for his imminent kiss but in an unexpectedly flash movement he relinquished me of my robe, leaving my entire naked figure exposed to him.
Once again he circled me, my natural form on full display for his personal viewing. As he completed his first turn he picked up a black rope and touching it against my exposed breasts continued to encircle me, dragging the coiled bights across my increasingly erect nipples before releasing them with an ecstatic twang.
As he moved behind, he sent instant swells of excitement through me as he stepped in closer pushing his firm torso and firming cock to my flesh. Placing his finger tips on my shoulders, he commenced their slow journey down my arms. The sensual static this generated made the invisible micro hairs in my skin rise with excitement.
I’m all ready to scream.
Well practiced in his skills, he had folded my fore arms parallel across my back in an instant, with the rope already twice round where my wrists crossed. If I’d wanted to pull away at this stage, I could not as his tension was perfectly firm. Quickly the column tie was applied.
We are bonded. Now I am his.
His warmth was welcome next to my exposed skin. Wrapping his right arm around me clenching me tight to his chest, I wilted. Able to respond to him once bound, in accordance with his strict protocols, I allowed my head to roll back nestling into his strong shoulder showing appreciation of his work.
Taking the index finger on his free hand, he traced magically from the nape of my neck, over my shoulder following down between the lean muscle definitions of my upper arm, then reaching around, he drew across my hip.
I beg you - please go there.
Running down the valley at the top of my leg, his finger slipped over my engorged clit and proceeded to rotate pleasurably over it.
Within seconds, my knees had completely buckled under the ecstasy of a third orgasm but his tight hold allowed him to control our collapse down to the tatami rush matting. Having completed its work, he withdrew his finger and keeping tight hold of my body, began rhythmically rocking me like you do a baby to induce that trance like moment pre-sleep, where time takes on insignificance.
Take me to the submissive space my type find intoxicating.
Through the onset of early sub-haze, I could feel him feeding the rope around me yet still maintaining our body connection. Hands expertly tracing jute lines over the top of my aroused breasts, forcing my small round areolae north under tension.
A sudden tug and my bound wrists were pulled unpleasantly yet stimulatingly higher up my back as he formed the stem of a Takate Kote harness.
His fingers slipped around and under the ropes as he dressed them to perfection. Nihon was clearly all about perfection. He worked steadily and expertly, weaving around my body, pinning my arms, sandwiching my breasts between cinched parallel double strands and forming a strong column against my back.
Oblivious to his movements, I was aware only of the sensation of black on black rope being set over my body. Over my back, across my shoulders, brushing the side of my breasts – but in typical Japanese style never across my neck. The smell of cherry blossom in his rope conditioning was like a nasal aphrodisiac.
The tension is mesmerising.
As he crossed over and between my stimulated breasts, my senses peaked further as he paused just slightly over each nipple, ensuring each one felt the twisting texture of jute as he dragged coarsely across them. Having wrapped across my chest, he constricted the chord, squeezing my tits on all sides as the rigging set around them compressed tight.
Fuck me!
I really need you to fuck me, Nihon!
No clit stimulation was required. Between his rope induced skin sensations and my own thoughts, it was enough to send me spinning into a sustained orgasm and once again I felt my pleasure flowing.
He can do what he wants to me, so long as he fucks me.
I could sense his hands working rapidly over my back as my Master of the moment completed the engineering of his strong rope web. I could feel him holding me tight, stroking the side of my cheek with sensual fingers and hypnotically rocking me to maintain my sub-trance state before he moved on.
I’m drifting.
Floating. Feather light.
I’m airborne.
Flying
.
Slightly roused as he started to interlace my toes, I hadn’t even sensed him creating structural art around my lower limbs. Suddenly, I was swept from my subconscious thoughts as I was hoisted horizontal. His perfect calculations of rope length sent me free falling face first towards the floor, uncontrollably spreading my thighs apart as my body sank, coming to a parallel halt a couple of hands above the floor.
Nihon had linked my ankles to the structural column on my back, passing the joined jute cables cleverly through the suspension rings positioned above my head. I was the link in his rope circle. Now he could drop or lift me to any position he chose. He controlled everything. I was fully his.
Take me now.
He slid me into the precise position he wanted and moved in, kneeling between my hovering inverted thighs.
From behind, just as I like.
Will it be my favourite way or my very favourite way?

Swinging me gently away from him, I then pendulumed back. Elegantly, his entire sheathed cock slotted straight into me, just as he’d intended all along. The discomfort of his end bouncing into my cervix was fully negated by the pleasure of Nihon’s satisfying width.
Repeatedly he slipped hard into me, allowing his momentum to propel me forward, then gravity feed me backwards, like the tapping balls in Newton’s Cradle. His hard as steel dick maintained it’s position while my motion made him sensationally cycle back and forth inside me like a well lubricated steam piston. The only sound apart from the creaking of the ropes were our grunts and groans from the pleasure each of us were deriving.
Nihon was truly a master of hypno-erotic rhythm. It was not long before the vibrations of his stout shaft rolling up my slick cunt as well as my swaying in his swing sent me sliding back into my own space.
I could visualise his movement inside me. He was so close to that finite area just on the front wall of my vagina where I just loose it. His fingers had been there earlier and now the end of his cock was so tantalisingly short of replicating the same precision. The tempo of his penetrations none the less, were bringing me ever closer to another inevitable climax.
But in a split second of disappointment, he adjusted our position, disturbing our erotic pace and triggering my orgasm reset button. My legs pitched higher, I was no longer horizontal and could instantly feel the blood pooling in my head.
This new orientation may have increased my mind’s dullness, but it also allowed Nihon to counteract his lack of length by penetrating even further. His impeccable technique thrilled me, finally delivering maximum pleasure in all dimensions. There was no holding back from me as his cock rubbed accurately over my trigger point.
The orgasm hit like a runaway train, no breaks but lots of screeching – all from me. Involuntarily I clamped down on his ever stiff cock and the sensation of his rapid movements became more intense, further multiplying the depth of my climax. Ejaculating hard, I could feel my damp expulsion splashing against his groin as he continued to pummel me.
Nihon’s movements began to take on a slightly slower speed and I detected his girth widening a little more if that was even possible. Seconds later I sensed the expanding latex of his condom teat against my vaginal wall as his rush filled me with ejaculate.
Deflating rapidly, he slumped back recovering flat on the floor, leaving me hanging with his spent protection just hanging discarded inside me. It took me a while to drift back to the reality of the room and a feeling of wanting to be defiled so much more than he did, set over me.
As if sensing my consciousness returning, with effort he drew himself up pulling on the vertical ropes and in the process righted me too. My legs still splayed out, he watched and waited. The sensation of his cum oozing out down the inside of my suspended legs was delightful and I could see a milky pooling on the rush mat floor. I watched as he very clearly took pride in the messy results of his efforts.
Nihon said nothing. He just gathered up his robes as he crossed then exited the room, leaving me sagging in his rig, totally expended and dripping profusely from his unload.
Nihon – I want you again – but I have had better.
He returned re-robed a few minutes later.
“I will see you in two days.”


End


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