Typhoon

Two days ago (june 9, 2014), we had some of the most impressive thunderstorms I ever seen. It started at night and lasted two hours, two hours of a fabulous sound and light show : so many flash of lightning that the sky was perfectly white, so clear that the public lights seemed ridiculous and useless ; thunder constantly roaring, giving the feeling to be under the fire of thousands of guns and bombers.

It reminded me of that day in 1985, that was no less tremendous.

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Tokyo, October 1985

All TV channels were warning, for the last two days, that a giant typhoon was approaching Japan.

The biggest and strongest they are, the slower they move. Yesterday, the news became sure and alarming : after hiting the Nagoya area, it’ll move north-east, straight to Kanto whith Tokyo at the center, forecasted around 15:00 with winds between 100Km/h to 180Km/h at the strongest (55 miles per hour to 100 mph). The japanese president of the company I worked with decided that we’ll work until midday then go home because such a monster typhoon : around 800 Km in diameter (450 miles) moving at less than 25Km/h, may cause serious damages during the following 48 hours.

At the said time, the company closed and I moved to our manshion. The wind was already moderately blowing.

When I arrived, Yooki had already secured the flower pots inside the flat, leaving the balcony empty and deserted… The children were in their room with the shutters closed… That was not our first nor our last typhoon, we were used to, but it was the first time I was at home because of it.

From the windows and from the balcony of our 4th floor, I could see people rushing in the street to  take cover as quickly as possible… and rain not yet falling ; people were shuting their homes as hermetically as possible… wind was not yet a tempest. I stood for quite a long time on our balcony, enjoying the wind and the growing anguish. Then I was back in the living room, took the ropes from the drawer and…

Yooki was stark naked within seconds, not difficult with only a skirt and a T-Shirt to strip. Within minutes her wrists and ankles were fitted with independent not so tight ropes. When she understood what I had in mind, it was too late, she was on the balcony.

Tied to the balcony guardrail, arms, then legs spreaded to the uprights, she was facing the outside, visible from the main street, from the houses under our building and from two other manshions 300 meters away. Risk there was, but very limited, almost all japanese inhabitants had allready shut himself or herself away and people in the street were much more carefull with the growing wind than what was happening over their direct horizon. But, fortunately Yooki was not in a state to understand such subtleties when panicked as she was and I had to explain. She cooled down, but it gave me another idea.

The real risk was our neighbours, the flat next to ours, just separated between balconies by a sheet of ground glass only ; any move on any side was evident and bending only a little over the rail allowed a full view… and chatting . In fact, I had to put my finger on my lips to have her shutting up when I saw a move on the other side of the glass, but the howling of the wind was covering efficiently her moanings.

Once fixed facing the world, I could leave her alone meditating and go to play a bit with the children : the girl was already 5 and our son was to be 2 in some days. « Papa ! Where is Mama ? » Asked  our daughter. « She’s out now. She’ll certainly be back later when you sleep… »  Then I put a VHS cartridge in the video deck and switched on the TV set. Then went to have a look in the wardrobe, feeling victorious when I found a huge bright orange and yellow Nina Ricci scarf.

Back to the bay window and the view of my wife facing the world and the fury of elements. Outside, it was raining now but the building itself and the balcony at the floor above were still spared. Therefore the puddle on the concrete between her legs and around her right foot was not rain but a loss of control. The rain was now rushing by waves pushed by a wind gaining in force. The noise was covering all sounds from where I was : the TV speakers in the other room as well as the Yooki’s cries outside. The wind will turn, that’s the rule with a typhoon small or big the same.

I opened slightly the sliding bay window and sliped outside just to be assaulted by the demonic gusts of the wind. What will it be when it’ll blow directly toward this side of the building ? I came behind my wife and caressed her back with the tip of my fingers. She looked at me with eyes sheding tears that were immediately flown away by the blow, pleading to be freed. I made the remark that she was having the goose pimples in spite of the hot and damp weather, so I brought a scarf to protect her throat. As soon as said, the  scarf was knoted around her neck, leaving a big fold of cloth flapping in the wind. She understood with a delay : a bright colored flag was moving, perfect to attract the attention of any persons peeping ouside from the relative calm of their residences. I left her struggling with the ropes and returned to the living to prepare the afternoon snack of the kids and insert another VHS in the deck before considering again Yooki’s interesting situation outside.

Between the change of the cartridges, the Tokyo TV channel was informing that the « eye » of the typhoon will pass south of Tokyo over Yokohama and that it’s moving speed was increasing while winds will not reach the previous strengh forecast. Better forecast on one side, but on the balcony, understanding was different : wind had turned and was whipping Yooki with all available rain possible.

She was no more the perfect wife having her hair looking nice in all situations even the worse, but a

witch with trickling down damp hair flaping around. Only regret, the damp scarf remained half sagging, but there was nobody in the street, cars or pedestrians the same ; easy to understand why when I saw tiles from a roof flying horizontally accross the road. Good to be at the 4th floor, 15 meters above  ground level.

Each wave of drops were slashing Yooki’s shin like, perhaps better than a Cat-O-Nine-Tails. She was contracting, relaxing, blocking her moves, all in one or two seconds only. She was so admirable, so beautiful, so heroic that I felt being unfair. I took off my clothes, but before joining her outside, I took some large towels from the wardrobe and spread them on the ground in front of the sliding door opening. Once out, I was grabbed by a wind not really willing to accept me, the shock nearly sent me down and I had to grasp the guardrail and hold it tight to reach my beloved wife. Rain was really whipping, no other word could have been correct and the situation was giving me a hard on, a whipped one, a crazy one.

When I secured my position on her back, holding the metal with one hand, tickling her nipples with the other, she perfectly knew my state of mind, thank to my rigid cock between her buttocks. My free hand tickled down and found a clitoris quite raised, then it could check that she was much, much weter and  much more slippery than expected, near of an unexpected orgasm. My fingers on her bud helped her to reach it and when I introduced my thing  into her, the less I could say is that I was more than welcome.

Rain or not, pain or not the same, she was overboard and me too.

I may last long, but in that case, repeat as much as she wanted was no more human. The real problem was when I untied her from the guardrail, ankles first, but she was able to stand only because of her tied posture, and when I freed one of her wrists, she collapsed on the ground, sitting in the water  accumulated on the balcony, water waiting for space in the drain.

Getting back inside the flat was an olympic performance : wind refusing the limp weed named Yooki to move on, pushing me away when we progressed of 20 cm. More than 20 minutes, until she laid on the towel after I closed the sliding door. She was out of her brain, I was exhausted with again a major hard on. She was laying on the floor without move, with the ropes still around wrists and ankles and the scarf around her neck. I fucked her again quietly this time. Her vagina was still more than welcoming.

She was having such silent and peaceful orgasm as she had frequently and I could have continued quite long if the voice of our daughter did not called me : « Papa ! The movie is finished »

I had to move, leaving Yooki as she was were she was.

A good pervert may be a perfect father. I took care of the kids : bath, diner, sleep. When I returned to the living, my Yooki was deep sleeping on the wet towels. I undid the scarf, the ropes and passing my hand on her skin saw that in some places there were some bruises left. No bath that night and I carried her to bed. End for that day.

Yooki’s absolute worry in Japan has always been saving face and reputation. To be exposed in such a way « in public » had been worse than suffering from weather, even if nobody had seen her.

The following days, she was looking at anyone she crossed in our surrounding, thinking they had been delighted by her exhibition. Then she cooled down.

Nobody ? Ten days later, she found in our mail box a large envelope. No address, no sender, just someone put it in the box. It contained half a dozen of poor quality telephotographies without doubt about the central thema on the glossy paper.

Loved it !

Rope

14 years later, when I saw the last sequence of Pigfarm (Insex posted on March 1, 2003), my memory and Yooki’s surfaced like crazy. Most of what we felt during the typhoon surfaced.

Then several years later, someone explained that lightning hit the Farm at that moment. We understood so well. It was it !

(If you don’t know go to see for

Pigfarm posted on 03/01/2003

www.insexarchives.com

« archives » because it had to close because of censure in the US.

Two eggs on a plate

Paris, 1994/04

Some 20 years ago, I found in a shop a  salt shakers egg shaped, a bit bigger than chicken eggs. Inside was made of holed polyethylene, the outside was made of metal. I put inside 1cc of quicksilver (around 250 g) filed the holes of the plastic inner part, then fixed the two metallic parts together with cyanolate glue. 
I finally polished the finished eggs to remove the possible remains of glue.

Two days later, the eggs were inserted in the delicious vaginas of my wife and of her best friend who was also my sub at that time: Kanako. All being well kept in place by chains circling their waists and passing tightly inside their slits to be finally padlocked at their waist.

You know some of the properties of quicksilver. It's heavy and it vibrates non stop  for any move done, even the slightest... and no need of any battery for electric supply. The moves activate and the cunt transmits the never ending vibrations immediately.

Oh! By the way, as Kanako was paying a visit in Paris as tourist, so we went to tour the cathedral "Notre-Dame"...
an architectural medieval masterwork  visited not only by believers but also by thousands of visitors every day.

From the very first steps, I knew that the day will be of an utmost interest. Amused at the very beginning, their faces, in particular Yooki ‘s, started to show disbelief, then, as we were boarding the train from the suburban station, anguish which turned to an internal panic when the vibrations of the train on the rails echoed non stop in their vaginas.

And we were only on the first leg of the move, more walk, the visit itself and the return will be a never ending pleasurable torture. I was right, the torture was on.

I think the first time Kanachan came was when we got off the train at the St Michel station : unable to walk, eyes closed, no sound at all, her nostrils heaving. Then Yooki’s turn in the corridors of the same subway station.

Their tense faces, were the mark of the efforts they were doing to control themselves.

Anyway, such self control, in my opinion, was more toward people around than to avoid a pleasure they could not escape, no hope as I killed any hope when Yooki begged me to unlock and allow to have the eggs out. « My love, I’m sorry but I left the keys on the kitchen table before leaving »

I don’t know how many time they had orgasms, small or big, on the cathedral esplanade and inside the « House of God ». That was not really my problem.

Anyway, I decided we join a group of as awkward as usual japanese tourists. It added some more pressures on them and more satisfaction for me.

Saying low voice : « Hear the guide’s comment ! It’s important » was just adding a bit more stress to their desperate condition .

Once out, I engaged a conversation with some tourists of the group and we all went to have a drink in a coffee shop nearby, to the despair of my women I must say. But once seated, with a minimum of movement, the effects of the « eggs » were limited and adding to this, I was having the feeling they were less sensible than previously. Anyone get used to pain, why not to orgasm ?

A small hour chatting, relaxed them a bit, but they had to control all their moves, always slow moving, avoiding some positions. The tourists having left for their sightseeing bus, I finished my beer while Yooki begged to return home with the clear agreement of Kanako, then I agreed.

The way back was a bit disappointing, only a slight coming here and there, they were now able to keep themselves under control. At least, they learnt something that day.

Anyway, they were exhausted when we arrived at home and they did not noticed I took the keys from my pocket. They took off their chains and only at that very moment, they understood they’ll have to lay their eggs, no string to pull them out.

At Charles de Gaulle Airport, when Kanako was to return to Japan, I gave her a small present : a box of the size of an egg nicely wrapped in a happy gift paper.

Rope

Static - Passive - Active

We left the Hotel Lotte around AM 10, arriving at Kimpo an hour later, plenty of time to go to the fur shop

1987 January

Sometime it is not necessary to look for an idea to be nasty, nature brings the idea and the means.

Yooki and me were in Seoul for three days, me to finalize a job with local partners, her to visit the city and… the shops of course, not so numerous in 1987. But she had previously spotted a boutique selling fur coats, with one of them particularly of her liking : a long black mink coat… a very simple need of course.

No irony please ! On such a field, the wishes of a perfectly obedient sub, may be considered as obligations if not orders. (In fact I was considering it and it is why I took her with me that time). But we were in January and it was -22°C outside (-7°F). Checking in in our hotel, the Lotte Hotel, just near the historical Westin Chosun Hotel, we received our key and boarded the elevator, up to the 15F. A long corridor and we reached the door of our room « with panoramic view on Seoul Tukpyolsi (if I remember well the name ).

I put the key in the keyhole and receive a violent shock : Static Electricity ! How many volts was it ? I don’t know, but it had been something major. The discharge passed, I could turn the key and get in the room. The first thing I did was to call the front, of course. A lot of excuses, but no solution in view, such a situation coming from the difference of temperature with the outside was I answered.

Not happy of course, but looking at Yooki, it  gave me a devilish idea. As usual !

Just arrived, we had to rush to another hotel where the furs Duty Free Shop was, in way to have the fitting done and be able to receive the finished coat at their Kimpo Airport boutique when leaving.

My appointments starting only the following day, I could wait peacefully (in spite of my wallet protests) that she made her choice and had her measurement taken. I must say that even not yet perfectly fitting, I thought  that either the coat was made for yooki or her for the black mink coat.

And… some more satanic thoughts were crossing my innocent neurones. As usual !

Night was now falling, temperature also, we rushed to the taxi station and jumped in the first car available. I am not shy with cold, but, I don’t know why, that time I was in a hurry to be in the car (difficult to believe but the taxi driver was wearing only a shirt (with necktie), his jacket laying on the other front seat while Yooki’s teeth were clearly chattering.

Was Korea the Hell ? For me, my usual image, Hell is fire, a delicious fire. Isn’t electricity a kind of fire ? I was eager to be back to the Lotte.

First : Restaurant ! Korean food is good in Korea and well adapted to weather. Then back to 15F, hum ! Dreaming ! We were perfectly OK after a nice Bulgogi with its surrounding of hot, really hot spicy speaking, small surrounding dishes and the rice bowls to fill our stomachs.

Arrived in front of  our door, I did not moved. Yooki looked at me asking what I was waiting. Answer was simple :  « Just, that you do the mine clearance ! ». I was smiling looking at her hair style, as raised as in a Faraday cage. It took quite loooong seconds before her unsure hand received the jolt, I then opened with the key, smiling.

Half an hour later, I tested myself the knob and « enjoyed » a shock like the previous one. Deduction : the event was a fast repetitive one. Such a cold outside and such an infernal heat (at least 23 or 24°C) inside, had certainly something to do with the surrounding static tension.

PM 10, why not having a drink and create relations at the sky lounge ? Yooki decided to change clothes… All right, but I decided the unseen and the practical. Off her jeans and woolen top, away her disgraceful hot underwears useless in the subtropical atmosphere of the hotel, all to be replaced by a pink and black underwear outfit she never worn before (bra and panty sparing materials and a suspenders girdle with seamed stockings), a quite molding dark blue skirt and a bright blue buttoned blouse. She was perfect ! As usual !

The only particular thing was that the static was so important that she made electric sparks when she sliped on her stockings. Really perfect !

A shock later we were in the elevator.

The sky lounge was not yet fully crowded as I could fear, but most of the tables were occupied by either men, alone, sadly sipping their whiskies (I supposed) and listening the notes of international hits played at the piano by a not really motivated young and pretty hotel employee. Seated on the high stools at the counter were three other young and pretty girls that I was almost sure to be « 50$ Ladies » : whores officially baned from the hotel premisses, but, with some money or « services » here and there, they could carry out their calling.

I explained to Yooki about those « 50$ Ladies ».

« How do you know ? » I answered by asking how many women were in the lounge, pianist and waitresses in uniform excepted. She had a look around, at least to the part of the huge room possible to see from our table.

« Seven including the three at the counter. Two american women with their husbands near the corner, and two korean with their husbands or bosses »

« Wrong ! Those last two also are part of the Ladies. And… you are also female, aren’t you ? But I’m not your client. What if I have my drink and leave ? »

She looked stoned for a short while, a very short one, looked straight at me. « You suggest… ? »

I said that I had nothing particular in mind, but now thinking twice… Otoshidama Parties !

« That was not the same ! Here I’ll have to have sex and ask for money beforehand like a real prostitute. During the parties, that was different and I was globally paid at the end like the other women. »

« Therefore, the difference is you suffering from angst ? In Japan you risked jail six times, but you were passive ; here you’ll have to be active, to sell yourself to a client you’ll hook…

If you decide to do by yourself of course. »

She remained silent several minutes, then looking at me, she said : « You can go. I’ll bring proofs. I’ll ring at the door when finished »

It was three in the morning when a demanding bell woke me. It was hot inside, no need of pyjamas at all. I opened the door, half asleep and received the shock, static doen’t sleep. Yooki was there, as elegant as she was, just something wilder in the eyes and the hair shape a bit messed-up. (static bristling or something else ?)  I decided for something else when she put banknotes on the desk.

«Proofs, here they are ! »

Not 50, but $100… Interesting !

« They had condoms, but I feel dirty. I am dirty ! » She started to cry when I started to fuck her.

At AM 7, I was in the bathroom readying myself for a long day of meeting and of strenuous negociations. Just before leaving, I left a message on the desk near the dollars : « I will call you or leave a message at the front for this evening »

PM 5, I gave a call with no result and left a message to be transmitted : « We are invited by the president of our , now, partner company to a traditional  restaurant for diner and entertainment. Be back at 6, leaving at 7 :30 »

PM 6 or so I arrived… and took my now usual dose of electricity in the hand. Yooki was in the bathroom having a shower. On the desk the stack of notes was still there, but somewhat different, I checked… $150. No comment !

When she got out from her shower, I had no question, just raising an eyebrow. No need to ask, she immediately said : « Lobby coffee shop ! But cannot be used to be paid ! I’m not a professional. »

« Does anyone care about your angst ? You did. I did not request . Taking the weight and the shame it is yours. You’re a whore, I’m proud of you ! You’re a slut and I love you, slut !»

As we were in Seoul for only  three days she had few changes (at least few for a woman), I advised her to wear the same outfit than the previous night, underwear or not at her will. As the car will pick up us just out of the revolving door, no need to fear too much cold, just put on a coat and jump in the car.

At the said time, we were in the lobby. I saw the chauffeur I knew  getting in, going to the front, I stopped him, showed with gestures we were ok. Without common language, he understood and smiled showing the front door where the big Hyundai was waiting. Not really used to Seoul and much less at night, I tried to understand the way : left when out of the Lotte Hotel, right just after the city hall, straight to a historical palace passing in front of the american embassy, then right, then left, passing what I thought to be the french cultural center… after that I gave up, too much turns in small streets and narrow alleys.  The restaurant on the street had only two lights at the entrance, but was apparently part of a quite bigger traditional building.

Down from the car, we rushed to the door. Hot car, icy air, the door opened immediately, a breath of warmth hit us.

Three women in korean traditional bright coloured dress were there helping with our coats and our shoes not necessary in those premisses, then leading us to the room where the president and the General Manager of my now new partner distributor were waiting. Let’s call them respectively Mr Kim and Mr Park, name of almost half of the korean population.

Seated around  the low table, legs crossed for the men, kneeling japanese style for Yooki, korean style (seated on the left foot the other knee having a higher position) for our four individual waitresses, dishes started to reach us in a seemingly non stop maner. Kimchi of all kinds, bulgogi (again) with its meats plates, soups , etc… What was new for us was that none of us was handling his/her metallic chopsticks, our waitresses were feeding us like mothers feeding their babies. Not a bad feeling at all !

Cuisine was perfect, the room was warm, glasses filled with Souju, everything was almost relax.

No common language : french between the President, Yooki and me : english or a simple japanese with the General Manager ; President or GM translating between us and the girls.

Just PM 11 (korean time ???) lights went off. The President said :  «Don’t worry, it’s an usual blackout training, just in case the « north » attacked one day. Relax the young ladies will try to accomodate you for the best in the meantime.

Here I was really surprised when I felt a hand starting to caress my pants in a place that modesty forbid to name further and to focus on… but in the dark…

On my left, I hear Yooki’s voice, no less surprised, certainly been taken care by her attendant in bright green korean dress. But in that absolute night ! Every one was taking softone, I was hearing people moving around, changing place, in my particular case, I took prudently distance with the low table still full of dishes. Breathing sounds were having more volume in the dark, quicker than usual for Yooki, one of the koreans seeming to laugh as silently as he could. My hand was visiting the tradition impersonated by my waitress who was still busy with something rigid in me.

Time passing, the hour finished and light came suddenly back dazzling us for a while. In the collective move that brought us back near of the table, I noticed the unzipped trousers of Mr Park and the « a bit too high on the thighs » Yooki’s skirt.

Just before leaving, Mr Kim said with a huge smile : « Here it is one of the best traditional restaurant in Seoul, but I forgot to say that it is part of the most famous brothel. »

The next day, I had another day of commercial discussion and several visits of stores with Mr Kim, Mr Park and two salesmen. Nothing particular until I said : « My wife wants to thank you a lot : the cuisine was delicious and the service a dream. She’d like to go again the next time we comes in Seoul »

In the meantime, in the morning Yooki visited a Museum and two department stores the afternoon, eating in a restaurant of the hotel at midday time. She added : « I have been as good as gold today ! »

I did not proposed to go to the sky lounge, I replaced the « clients » without paying more than the mink coat.

p, trying on the coat for the last details and for her female like           self satisfaction.

For me, it was not finished, I had to pay the custom duty on arrival at Narita Airport. Thinking with a devilish smile that she’ll repay me hundreds time !

Rope

Night Train

1985 August.

He was leaving the company he worked for since 1979, no fight and good relations as his motivation and arguments were true, just that the brand could not cope with such vital needs in such a short term.

He’ll start with his new employer from September, with all what he requested for the war on the Japanese market.

In between, we were taking two months, relax, moving to and from Paris, to the Grand Parents country house and back. One day, He told me we were going to visit an old friend of Him living in Torino in Italia.

He had already reserved a sleeping compartment in a night train leaving Paris the next day.

Gare-de-Lyon, a little passed 21, the train start moving slowly from the platform, a lot of people waiving good bye from the windows or from ground. That seemed to interest Him a lot, then He smiled. I know Him sufficiently well to understand what may mean such a smile.

Setting the couchettes for the kids while waiting for the tickets control kept us busy during half an hour. The boy slept first. Our daughter excited by the train novelty stayed awake longer, but rocked by the sound of wheels on the rails finished to fall in deep sleep too.

Came the ticket inspector, He took His travel bag and passed our tickets to the man to who he asked the timing of the stop at Lyon Perrache station and then the border crossing at Modane. He had the answers, we had a « Good trip, good night » an the door closed. He locked it and pulled down the curtains.

« Strip all ! » was all what He said, then He returned to the book He was reading before the tickets control.

Raising an eye some minutes later, He added : « Sleep. I’ll wake you when time comes ». Strange feeling to be nude in such rough sheets in shape of  a bag, I slept, lightly, but I slept.

When He woke me, only His night light and mine were on, but I noticed He had made curtains of the unused  blankets in way to keep the children undisturbed and sleeping quietly. His travel bag was open  and I could catch a glimpse of ropes in it. He smiled and said : « I saw you saw. You’ll be the star of the show tonight ! »

He then started to tie ropes around my wrists and ankles, not tight but sufficiently to know that untying myself would be unrealistic. I had seen the ropes only, not what was under.

I stood facing the curtained window, one foot on each seats (the lower couches) on each sides of the window. He fixed my ankles to the armrests fixations on the dividing walls of the compartment then, using the small ladder, climbed to the upper couchettes and linked my wrists to the security rings of the beds at the ceiling of the room. Nothing painful at all, I was just tied in a loose spread eagle shape. He then took two small boxes out of his bag. I immediately knew everything will be very difficult to stand : one box was the clover clamps one and the other contained the weights. I groaned at their view only. He trusted again his hand in the bag and took out a ball gag, not a big one, but one that can be fixed tightly keeping the ball deep in the mouth.

« I knew I’ll need it, for children peace of course, but also for the aesthetic of the scene. » whispered he to my hear while pulling strongly the strap. He then fixed the clamps : a pair to my nipples, a pair to my inner labias and finished by suspending weights to each clamps. The train speed was slowing down, the irregular sound of the wheels of the car indicating we were crossing many shunts before a major station, all those moves making the weights swing. He passed between my spreaded legs, had a satisfied look at my picture and opened up the blind. He then switched on the main light of our room.

Not really panicked, but absolutely uncomfortable. I was seeing lights from outside flashing by while the jolts of the train on the rails were rocking the weights. Pain was starting to raise. Soon I did not know which one was the worst, or the best I could not separate, pain or shame. When our train arrived in the station (I could read Lyon-Perrache on a panel), I could see several platforms but no other train, just people waiting on the second platform away from our train. No move, no big pain, shame dominated. In my back I could hear passengers passing in the corridor on the other side of our sleeping car.

A train arrived at the other platform, hiding the people waiting. Anyway they boarded and I saw them moving. At this very instant, I saw a man, jaw dropping, fixing the place I was standing. He immediately called another man. In less than a minute, they were half a dozen. Furthermore, one reappeared with a camera. Shame was controlling me, to the point I was unaware of Him playing with the weights between my thighs. How many pictures could he take before our train departed ? No idea, but He was doubtful of the quality because of the distance and poor light.

Our train was moving slowly again, balancing among another crowd of shunts, balancing also my weights pulling on the clamps, bringing tears from my eyes. Tears and saliva which was also drooling on my chest and on the floor.

He was ready to free me when our train came alongside another coming from a junction, (He supposed coming from Lyon Part-Dieu which is also an important station). The two trains were progressing at more or less the same speed : our train slower at the beginning, then passing the other with a sadistic appallingly slowness. Was I seen ? I do not know.

Instead of taking the ropes off, he took my « anus stopper » out, filled my ass hole, then only undid the knots, keeping the gag as the best for the last. My work would be to take the clamps off, this, I always considered to be a real hell after 30 or 40 minutes with the weights (around 250 grams each). Even taking the clamps with the utmost delicacy, pain was an explosion almost unbearable, and I had 4 to take off…

If I add his absolutely soft caresses on my suffering nipples and vulva that were raising pain sensibility rather than cooling it down, that hour and half was pure torture. He enjoyed and me too.

Around 5 in the morning, we were still fucking when Italian customs and border police officer knocked a tour door to see identities and know if we had something to declare. We had sex almost non stop in the meantime and I was still plugged. (It remained plugged 18 hours more until we went to sleep in His friend’s house)

Yooki

Every day life... if I may say!

Tokyo (1979 - 1989+)

He told me : « That is your turn. Now write ! »

I read all what he already wrote on our life ; I was unsure.

« Write, I’ll correct the grammatical mistakes. »

Not to repeat what he said, nor kill some big events he may have in mind to describe, my subject here will be everyday life, mainly nudity, but also children and how we had to cope with their quite frequent interferences in our usual very private life.

One day, I was fed up with that life ; I was feeling, needing better than such a slave life (not exactly but near of my feeling). One day, I slammed the door bringing our daughter with me. He did not moved a centimeter nor said any thing except « Good bye ! See you soon ». I was shocked. A week later, I was back during an afternoon. He was at work, nobody at home. I put the baby in her chair, then waited. He arrived by 08 PM, he just said looking at me : « welcome back ! » and looking at me, looking at me… It was an order without word. I started to undress,

Nudity was a rule for a long time in our house. Not mandatory nor forcibly, but practice made it a rule ; not full, complete, total but season, weather, location or any other circumstances including His decisions made of nudity total or partial a part of myself.

At home, I could be with a top, but nothing under the waist. If I wore a panty in exceptional days, nothing else was my normal display. I had panties and bras that one day he decided to put to the trash ; this was a year before our wedding and I still had my pubic bush. When I had my periods, I had to use those vaginal Tampaxes and let the cord hanging out. It was a lot embarassing.

Outside, a panty was, until 1985 I think, an absolutely non existing object. Summer or winter the same, cunt and buttocks always reachable by anyone being basic. It changed later, a little only, when I decided to « work » in a job He did not opposed at all.

When Kanako joined us, she was pulled in our lifestyle and applied the same behaviour without any pressure from Him. I never understood why, but my gynecologist after we arrived in France in 1990 (His previous sub when they were in High School) told me : « He is the nearest biblical representation of The Tempter, snake among the people I know »

I must say here that He keeps longlasting contacts with the women He considered to have value.

I met 4 of them among 7 when he organised a small garden party in his parents house near Paris in September 85. Kanako, Laure (the gynecologist), Ok Soon, Jacqueline were present. Lia the italian girl from Bologna died in an accident 3 years before and Anne-Marie (not the one you may think), a senegalese woman of Peul ethnic group living and working near Dakar, were absent. Children where also playing together in the garden. Of the 6 present, 4 were His : Ok Soon’s, Kanako’s and our daughter and son. As far as I understood Ok Soon’s husband knew he was not the father, and Kanako’s married with her knowingly, she was heavily pregnant when they went to the shrine, (he was a friend of Him, before and after)

During that party, Kanako and me were nude under clothing, for the others I did not know at all. But some month later, visiting Laure for a regular health control, she told me that she was « covered » at that time. I did not understand what she meant then and He smiled only when I asked which of the numerous meaning of « covered » (in french) she had in mind.

I am sure He has a lot to say about Laure and relatives ; me also to a lesser extent.

Ok Soon was also puzzling, not cold but unreadable, she broke her mask when He asked her if she could sing an aria… without music ; she did. A marvelous voice but she cried when she ended. He explained later. Jacqueline was the Ok Soon’s friend (and His girlfriend) who made them meet and helped them before she left Paris. A very pleasant, but absolutely realist woman, no useless talk

Our children (5 and 3 years old at the time of the party) were absolutely used to see their mother and aunt Kanako unveiled, at home and outside, in Japan hot springs, or in nudist camps and seasides in Europe. It lasted more than 10 years, for them also nudity was natural, in a way more than for me.

Year after year, we stayed in half a dozen places with the kids, but went also without them of course, in a good number of swapping, swinging clubs. I am absolutely sure He can still give the names of the clubs, camps and places now 25 to 37 years after.

In Tokyo the baby sitters became an absolute need for both professional purposes and « non professional » reasons : ceremonies and parties of the Chamber of Commerce or at Embassies (french, german, US or british) where children were not required for etiquette reasons, and  underwears excluded because of His will. Participating to such parties in such condition was more than arousing, often I felt near full pleasure among all these men and women chatting around me ; the baby sitting student (almost always the same) was also a necessity when I was required in some much less official and respectable places.

One day, Kanachan was not with us, when we came back home, it was around 4 and half in the morning, we found « our » student sleeping in an armchair with our daughter (2.5 years old) doing the same in her bed. Without noise, we went to our room and changed our clothes for yukatas (light coton kimonos). I prepared as silently as possible some green tea, when it was ready, I nodded and He woke her up gently. Some minutes later we were drinking, relax, He just had paid her the vacation, when the baby sitter told me to shut the drawer (she showed the one concerned) explaining that our daughter was playing with a vibrator (only playing) because she found the vibrations somewhat funny. I felt very uncomfortable at that time, but the baby sitter came again, therefore, no problem said He.

We had several other incidents involving one of our children between 1980 and 1990 when we left Japan.

He was tying us together on the tatamis in the living room, when suddenly he stood and shut the light off, we heard a small voice asking for « mama ! ». Before I could open the mouth, I had his hand gagging me. He then moved in the dark : « Mama is sleeping, Aunty to ! ». He had our son sleeping on His shoulder, put the boy on his bed and came back to us as if nothing happened.

Such a quick reaction was not possible, when the kids woke and moved without sufficiently noise to warn.

Once, our daughter appeared when I was sucking Him, how long had she been there ?

Another time years later, that time again, our boy this time showed up while Kanako and me where licking eachother. It seems our son remained quite long then went back in his bed, but he asked the next day if we were feeling bad… (asking it at 4, I felt unstable)

Several times, the kids appreared in the middle of the night when I was tied or Kanako was. And how many time did we not know ?

We had an absolute need of « our » baby-sitting student ! Particularly when He decided that we’ll go either to the « Emperor », to the « Alfa In », to the « Yoake » or any other place, mainstream or not.

With the time, we became friend with the baby-sitter and when He was not in the room, we, the women, could talk freely. Not in the room do not mean He is deaf and hear nothing. One day, after she left, in spite of our doubts, He set up a scenario in which she’ll be central ; Him being present or not, the same. The scenario did not worked because I could not play my part. Several weeks later, it worked because He played all the parts alone, Kanachan and me becoming passive tools. She tasted the rope only once, on a gentle way for sure, but after that she was aware of all what was going on in this house. Who knows Him well understand He may be convincing and relentless.

And, she came back ! And we talked together again. I was more embarassed than her, but He never tied her again.

Years later, He told me :  « You were the target. Not her ! »

Yooki

Fear!

Tokyo (March 1979 - January 1986)

Fear, pure and absolute panic with cats, seeing cats, shivering when a cat was looking at me, useless to say, a cat nearing me? Crazy! Impossible!

But with Him, impossible does not exist and what is crazy becomes a norm.

I am sure He knew of my terror for cats 6 or 8 months before our wedding, but He did not say anything. 

When I was seeing a cat, I immediately turned toward the nearest show window, entering the shop to put the door between me and the monster. In residential streets I crossed the pavement, changing sidewalk to avoid to near a cat sitting in a place, certainly waiting for me.

Sometimes, He warned me with a "Mew" but nothing more, proof he was aware of my phobia.



A year after our wedding and the birth of our first baby, maybe in March 81, we went (with our daughter in her baby basket) to one of His friends home for a "shibari toki" (Bondage Session). The start was very soft, green tea and traditional cakes, then I left the baby's basket near the paper partitions between the rooms. 

They tied me in turn, showing each other, a tip, a knot, how to pass the rope, inside, outside, up, down, straight or crossing. I was still wearing pantie and bra, but not for long. The baby started to cry for milk. but instead of freeing me, He undid my bra on the back, as it was not moving, he took a knife and cut it in piece, taking all off, part after part. I protested without any result, it was already too late. He then took the baby and held her while she was sucking my left breast then the other. Around us, the friend was taking photos, click-flash - click-flash...
After the baby had burped and was back, sleeping in her basket. He neared me again and having me laying flat on my belly, took my last cloth off in spite of my renewed protests.
Click, the camera was flashing not stop. Stupid question in my head: "how many film did he finished? And how many from now?"

At that point, He tied my ankles together, passing the remaining of the rope on the rope already tying my wrists in my back to my upper body, he pulled it slowly, forcing my knees to bend, then arching me back to the limit point when pain was near.

Click-flash! 


Suddenly, I felt Him freeze, suspending His moves, eyes pointing somewhere out of my view.
"You didn't tell me you had!" Was the only remark to the friend. "There are two" was the answer. Two or three minutes later, I understood with horror, a cat, A CAT was in front of me, looking at me with its devilish eyes. I started to moan, to cry, to howl...
The friend apparently was not understanding what was happening, but He said: "Better to close window and shutters. No need to disturb neighbours"
I was completely panic-stricken when they left the room despite of my supplications.

Absolute hell, the cat starring at me, increased panic when the second one came out from the closet; it was pure, absolute, extreme torture. My voice had almost not effect on the "monsters";
no way to escape, my cries, my howls, my tears having no effect on the cats and the men on the other side of the "fusuma" (sliding dividing paper wall).

It lasted two hours or more, them in the other room drinking tea, chatting while looking at the TV. I must admit that He seemed to have had a look several times, half opening the "fusuma".
I fainted twice when I felt the nose and whiskers of one of those devils grazing my skin, completely indifferent to my moaning voice,

I remained like this shutting tightly my eyes not to see the two monsters facing me in a hieratic pose. No hope, each time I relaxed my eyelids, they were there. Time passing, as they did not neared me anymore, one sleeping, the other licking its fur, I relaxed a bit, just slightly, but I relaxed and stopped making noises.

Was it the lasting silence or the time running that decided the men to reappear? But they got in. The cats raised on their paws and left the room in a slow motion move.

I was not dead, I was not in hell, the demonic beasts almost did not touched me. I was safe and I learnt that possibly, the problem was not with the cats, but with me.

My fear and repulsion lasted some more years, until I decided, under His strong advices, to meet a specialist doctor. Two more years and I welcomed a cat that our daughter "saved" in the streets. The cat in our home now is the third.

I hated him for a while... but he was true!


Yooki

Hair or not Hair? That is the question!

France - Japan – France (1965 – 2005+)

When you want a woman to be embarassed and feel really ashamed, you need to know the girl sufficiently well to understand her weak points, to know the surrounding society she lives in, the practices, traditions and moral code active at that time and also particularly know what you will do to obtain what you want. Time must not be a limit or a break.

Starting to talk of pubic hair, their pussy furs is perhaps one of the biggest social subject of our actual world.

When I say actual, I mean the last 60 years, from after WW2 and the creeping negative influence of the american way of life an dits underlying stupid moral.

When I was 17, it was a beautiful year, 1965 ! I was no more « virgin », if a boy can be virgin out of the christian way of thinking, the induced laws and corresponding behaviours.

It took me years to understand that those hairs, positioned in such a strategic place, were important only because of « societies » taboos. 1965, I was in last year of high school and Laure was in the same position in another high school because at that time, boys and girls had separated schools at all levels. Laure and me, passed some days, decided without any comment, word or assessment, to break the wall between us. I was not innocent, neither she was… that helped !

We were fucking, but she had the permanent reflex to hide her fur as soon as I was at viewing distance.

Incredible ! If I consider what happened during the two following years.

Her mother had not that reflex, but it was the  same for Lia, Nicole, Anne-Marie (not 912 whose name has never been Anne Marie), Jacqueline, and some others unders the same occidental influence. Showing or letting one’s fur see, was embarassing or perhaps perceived as obscene maybe.

Later, with Ok Soon, Yooki my wife, Kanako, Natsuko, and other asian girls (mainly japanese and korean women) the move was the same but the content was drastically different.

With the first lot, their thinking was : « Don’t look ! It’s a sin ! shut the light ! (I never did) etc…) As nudity is the mark of the evil (strange that Adam/Eve were nude in heaven, then all saints going to heaven nowadays sing : « I’ve got a robe, you’ve got a robe, all of god’s children got a robe » Censure is not something new.

Therefore, with the european educated having christian or jewish or, in one case, islam backgrounds, my pleasure was, beside fucking if I felt it necessary, or power balance play when suitable, was exhibit them in unpredictable situations (for them of course). I’m not exhibitionist myself, but their almost solid shames was of an incommensurable value. And… at the same time, I was breaking taboos (theirs) and transgressing rules (ours)

With the second group, I was a bit older, less impulsive and I took time to analyse, « their » thinking as I was studying « their » languages, civilisations, societies, traditions and ways of life.

In spite of some « european » influences in Japan : British victorian social code and French civil code imported at the Meiji era ; or after WW2, what was imposed (democraticaly of course) by Mac Arthur in line with religious considerations not for real political need. Poor guy ! He was so « Black and White » oriented.

Asian women are now, as embarassed as occidental ones, to let see their pubic area… but not if the potential viewer is another woman. Public bathes existed for centuries. Just with « occidental progress » males and females were separated, except in some remote hot springs in mountains. There’se a flaw in it I fully used.

I was still in Paris when my girlfriend introduced me to Ok Soon, one of her friends, korean and studying opera singing  at the Paris Conservatoire. I heard a so pure voice… (later the Moonshine voice was a poor imitation). When not on duty, I went to meet and hear Ok Soon almost each week, with or without Jacqueline’s presence, no problem as I kept her informed and almost certainly Ok Soon did also so… They are women, aren’t they ?

Jacqueline left Paris in urgency because of a big family problem. So big that she never came back remaining in her « nowhere » place.

After some days of regrets, I felt more involved in Ok Soon case and I went deeper in her mind. She had many fears : of course not to be talented (she had all the talent and the voice needed, but she doubted), to get her Conservatoire exam (I made all my possible to have her singing in front of as many friends as possible), to be or not to be many, many thing, among them her terror was to be raped like one of her relatives had been in Seoul. I must say that I played with it, but it was a relation in full confidence.

It took time, but I was not in a hurry, I slowly dragged Ok Soon to bondage and a non sexual submission.

No sex was not a problem as I had at the same time a cunt ready to use, but beside the cunt nothing extatic.

Ok Soon was different, I liked her and I wanted her full surrender that I obtained, but it is another story.

She was shy, very shy and modest, it was where I hit one day. I had her nude up to the waist, took a pair of scisors from her beauty tools and started to cut her fur, puting the result of the pruning in an enveloppe. She was so pretty blushing and crying like this. « Keep the enveloppe as a memento ! I took an appointment for you tomorrow afternoon in a beauty salon for a  full depilation. » I loved her hunted animal look at that very time. Who said that asiatic faces are impassive ? … Stupidity !

I arrived the next day with at least three hours before « Her appointment ». I had to wait a little before Ok Soon opened the door, but much less than I had supposed. She had already given up resistance and she was ready. I kissed her cheek and told her to take off her panty which was absolutely useless today.

I left her in the hands of the beautician whose salon was located near the subway station Saint-Georges a  bit downhill from Pigalle ; and came back to receive the final product an hour later. When I arrived Ok Soon  and the beautician (I read « Julia » on her badge) were talking at the front. Ok Soon seemed to bel ost (and she was) and Julia very happy (she was more happy when I filled the check) of the job she did, saying to me that a maintenance is better every three months.

Out on the pavement, Ok Soon started to cry, 20 meters later, she was sobbing her heart out against my chest. I was taken aback (It may happen) ! We went back to her place, her crying, me helping. When in her room, I was in a crisis and had the answer to my surprise to her reaction.

In fact, it was not a relative who was raped,  but her, herself. Her losing her fur was like losing some protective wall in her mind.

In Ok Soon case, I hit unknowingly but directly her weakest point, not through any social understanding or practice. And the story of our relations during those three years and four month would be exciting and bring memories for many.

With Yooki, Kanako, Nastuko and several other « ..ko or ..mi », the approach was different. My target was to put them facing somewhat degrading situations in relations with the social moral of the very conformist japanese people.

For example, at that time late 70’s and 80’s, for an average japanese, tatoos are the marks of the yakuzas, no exception, therefore tatooed persons were not allowed to use the public baths an in a majority of cases to go to hot springs resorts. I did not had any of them, wife or not, tatooed (I would have liked) but it would have marked them without hope to erase. (And also my prefered women tatoo style (irezumi) was the full back with one only central drawing that can extend with related additional motives. Not like we see now in Europe or the US, with girls having a patchwork of stupid small inkstains)

Back to the subject. There was at that time also a strict prohibition to show any pubic fur on magazines or on picture (even private), result, the numerous erotic publication, all BDSM ones included, started to eradicate « The pubic hair » that allowed to hide the slits with very thin black strips that suggested more than hide the cunts of our beloved females. Result was that any woman without fur was considered as completely depraved if not as a whore (but prostitution did not existed anymore… officialy in Japan. As long as there was no contact between sex against money it was not prostitution. Fellatio, sodomy, body-body, hand job were not prostitution, just paid services. Stupidity that US sponsored law was and still is !)

I took the problem in hand, and the risk too (life is of no interest without risk) with my wife (yooki if you don’t know). When she gave birth to our daughter, she had been shaved by a nurse before going in the « workroom ». Shaved but not depilated, in fact not completely, some woods survived to her small forest after cutting down. Not very decorative, not pleasant to see.

After the delivery, Yooki went for two weeks to her parents house, where my mother in law could help.

In a family in Japan, women usually use the bathroom, including the bathtube, together, that allows chatting.

No problem at that time at all.

Four months later, Yooki is almost back to her usual shape and shapes but her bush start to cover again part of her geography. As we were going to her parents house for the long week end of O-Bon, I took my razor, my shaving cream and cleaned completely the vegetation in her equatorial region. She did not understand immediately, but just half an hour after her garden was free of weeds she saw the situation : going to take a bath with her mother ! Canceling was impossible, she had to find a good explanation… or a good lie.

She found a good explanation, hardly a lie but… if it was perfect concerning her family, I was not really satisfied as she avoided too easily the real risk. Anyway, well done, from now it was not necessary for her to have any hair between her thighs when stopping a night or two at her parents home.

A disappointment doesn’t mean giving up, The baby was growing, but she was also keeping her mother mostly at home and Yooki’s weeds were growing again when Kanako made her appearance and the dice use started.

After the « locked sodomy » affair I had with Kanako and her coming back, fulfilled hope a week or so later, I started to look for beauty salons operating « total intimate depilation (or cleaning) ». Result, at that time, in Japon, ZERO. Certainly not acceptable socially wise during those early 80’s ; I’ll have to do it again myself.

The only merit of using a razor for such job on such delicate parts is the psychological pressure it can put on the girl. I decided to make the best of that bad job.

Both Yooki and Kanachan were tied in position on chairs, legs tied to their thighs and kept wide apart by a rope passing under the seat. I moved the seats in way they face each others and left to take care of our baby crying. Back in the living, I had a look and said I was going to the bathroom ; there I shaved doing something more than unusual for me : I cut myself, slightly but sufficiently to bleed. I returned with them, razor, shaving soap, shaving brush and aftershave in hands . When they understood I was going to shave their cunts, there was a ripple of panic in the room. « Still and quiet ! I wouldn’t like to cut your precious clits. I am not african as far as I know, I prefer you with, not without. Shut up ! » all said with a wide nasty smile.

I started to work, soap with brush, what a delight ! Even tied as they were, they were moving.

« Now it’s only the brush, pleasant I know, but when the blade turn starts, better to be stiller than now. »

Passing from my wife’s cunt to her friend’s and back, it was a delight to get on their nerves.

When I started with the blade, their stillness and silence was without exemple in their history. Again from one to the other, starting at the top of their pubis, slowly down, cleaning the blade under the tap, back at work on the other target, again anda gain with some intermitent soapy brush interludes.

I had now reached the near vicinity of  the curb of their cunt well. I had already saw them tense, but never to that point, faces closed, lips sealed and bulging eyes targeting my hand and the tool in it.

I could feel each of them quelling their lightest reflex moves. If heaven exists I was in.

They were clean, including the few hairs on the inner side of their labias majora. Some moves of the blade to erradicate some survivors between holes and I said : « I’m exhausted with such a stress ! »  Pouring aftershave lotion in my hand, I took care of their beardless vulvas, relaxed as the razor was away, the alcoholic lotion took them unaware to my great pleasure.

Two days after that memorable day, after my return from office, I took both of them to the nearest public bath which was a pillar of the japanese life and such places were overcrowded an hour after offices closed.

Cleaning of course, but also relaxing, the public baths were a meeting place, an exchange spot, a chat room for the women and a second level nomiya where men could quietly drink sake.

(please remember that men and women had separate public baths and that as the main bath is used by everybody at the same time, washing onself before entering is compulsory, therefore protective underwears were ridiculous, the only symbolic protection being a ridiculously small towel that almost do not hide anything in fact. http://ropeblog.blogspot.fr/2008/12/japanese-public-baths.html)

Pushing the stroller, I pushed them also to the place of the bath. Skirts and T-shirts, simple shoes, was normal with that summertime muggy weather, but no underwear was much less usual even when going to a place where you strip completely. I waited outside with our daughter who seemed surprised of so many movement around her, no tear at all… fortunately. Once I was sure they got in, I started to be very attentive to the chats of the women leaving the baths. That vigilance gave no very satisfying results : only a woman saying to another : « Did you saw those two tarts ? » , « No, I did not paid attention… »

I decided to repeat the visit in this same place again when Yooki and her « sister » came out.

They returned there a total of seven times during the following month. I stopped only when I saw Yooki crying on the doorstep when leaving… and Kanako not much better. That time their shame took control of everything and Yooki  started a crying fit followed by Kanachan’s. That night I had no need of the dice, but I had to prove my value to both of them. Incredible to what point women can be nasty eachothers ! LOL.

The razor sequence had been quite psychologically shocking for them and they decided to find other ways to remains free of hairs downside. Kanachan was often in her common flat with her rump but violent husband from whom she was now divorcing, but she was looking for a local solution. All her proposals were tested (by her or Yooki) but none proved to be sufficiently efficient time wise. They asked me to bring back from France where I went for a management meeting, a dozen tubes of  depilation cream of a particular brand they found in a women’s magazine. So did I.

No more problems, at that level during a years. In the meantime, Yooki tried electric depilation with dubious results for a non dubious cost, she came back to the chemical industry. On another side, Kanako was divorcing and her man had been quite violent (a good argument for her legally speaking, but not for aesthetic for sure) ; I even had a brawl in public with him that lasted less than 20 seconds ; another bad point for him and he didn’t knew me sufficiently.

Kanako was moving constantly between her mother’s house and our’s. The divorse was as welcomed as vacations can be for stressed workers. I un-stressed and re-stressed her in a different way, but taking her in account in another way.

Their geographic south locations kept for years an aspect strongly similar to the Middle West great plains after harvest. I kept it as is, because I felt and knew that they were not accepting at all such a forced « nudity ».

The next step concerned only Yooki. When we were in France for vacations, not in Paris where she had other duties, but in south, in Provence, we went with the children (we had had a second one, a boy) at the pool or at the seaside where usual families were going, she wore a swimming suit, innocent if dry, very indiscreet an indecent if wet. Virginal when dry, more than provocative and shocking when just out of water.

Even married again with a man (a nice guy) I introduced to Kanachan after a Toshidama Party, practice did not changed a lot, Kanachan came less often but they came from time to time… to throw the dice.

Rope