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This is a tale of female dominance and male submission (slavery). Within the story are depictions of traditional sex, oral sex, and golden showers. If these themes are not something you enjoy reading I suggest you pass on this tale and look for another. This story is quite long – 10 chapters. Should you read it to its end, I hope you enjoy it.
A Japanese Adventure
Chapter 1: Meiko
It had been a little more than six months since my beautiful wife had passed. Cancer is a horrible disease and it let loose it’s cruelty on my precious bride. For almost a year I watched the life of my best friend slowly extinguish. I watched as a previously active woman lost her desire to exercise and then move. I watched a woman who would normally eat most anything only ask for the blandest of foods. And finally, I watched the light in her eyes dim, and then flicker and finally turn dark. We had been high school sweethearts and married ever since we were teenagers.
She was gone all too soon. On my nineteenth birthday, I repeated the words of the pastor “for better or for worse” while not really understanding the implications of what I said. During most of those years, I experienced the better in life. We raised a family, paid for two weddings. I in the just last year I walked our twin daughters down the aisle and handed them over to capable men. They had both made good choices and I envisioned in their lives, the same joy my wife and I experienced in our own.
But our last year, just a month after celebrating another anniversary, life took a dreadful turn for the worse. During our cruise to Alaska, she had not been feeling well. The ship doctor thought she might have contracted a virus and told her to rest, drink fluids and take medicine to help with the discomfort. We made it through that trip. Alaska was all we had imagined and more. Denali, the Kenai Peninsula, the glaciers, the wildlife, the vastness of the land, it all made for a trip we’d never forget.
It was a trip I’d remember but for all the wrong reasons. It was the last foray of our marriage. Ten months later I became a widower at the all-too-young age of 43. I cried every day for the first month. I dreaded going to sleep at night, knowing the nightmares would come. I lost 20 pounds. I had no desire to eat. I passed the time by watching mindless television and hardly ever left the house.
Friends stopped by to try and cheer me up. My kids called to see how I was doing. My co-workers did their best to be themselves but I could tell they acted as if they were walking on eggs. I was not a fun person to be with and to be honest, I didn’t want to be with others. I just wanted to be alone.
Shakespeare wrote a play entitled, Twelfth Night. I had a friend who majored in English who once told me one of the themes of that play was ‘time is a healer’. I often thought of my friends’ words as the days became weeks and the weeks, months. As time passed, the pain became bearable and I began to see life as more than a time to tolerate the day and dread the dreams at night.
I returned to work even though I had but a few months until my retirement. I started walking. But I wasn’t myself. I still missed her. I was lonely and that was the worst part. I was alone. The house was too big and too quiet. I spent too much time hanging out with just me. The friends stopped calling. I assumed they had called enough and needed to get back to their own busy lives. I had a pervasive feeling of claustrophobia, not so much because I felt confined, but because I couldn’t get away from my surroundings. I needed to do something different.
I started thinking about places I wanted to see; places I wanted to visit. I had never been to the Grand Canyon. I’d never been to our nation’s capital. I had never been out of the northern hemisphere! My wife hated to fly and refused to fly over water. I thought about Scotland and the pictures I’d seen of the vast serene beauty of white cliffs and green unblemished hillsides. I thought about the ancient cities of Italy, Hungary, and England. I gave thought to touring Europe or possibly taking an adventure to Africa and go on a safari. For whatever reason, and I don’t really know why, I decided to take a two-week trip to Japan as soon as my work ended in June.
The idea was ludicrous. I didn’t know a lick of Japanese. I had no idea how to act in a culture so foreign. What I knew, was this place would be different than any city or country I had ever been to. The food would be different. I thought of eating their food might be a challenge. I didn’t eat ‘raw’. I didn’t eat seaweed. I didn’t do chopsticks and I surely hadn’t eaten fish eyes or octopus parts and whatever else they dug out of the ocean that isn’t a normal fish and consumed. I didn’t know if I would be accepted. Here I was, a tallish blondish male going to a country where I knew no one, didn’t speak their language, and didn’t even have an agenda as to what to do once I arrived.
To make things manageable I sought out foça escort a travel agent and was lucky enough to find an older Oriental woman who told me she knew Japan very well. Her name was Ms.Yamamoto. I asked her to find and book me an apartment or flat or whatever they called home over there. Ms.Yamamoto smiled at my display of ignorance. She called me the following day with an option to rent out an apartment that was available for a month.
“I suggest you take this offer young man,” I remember her telling me.
The rate was excellent but the catch was, it was only available in June. The timing couldn’t have been better. I was scheduled to retire on Memorial Day – the last Monday in May. I could fly out a few days later and see all that Japan had to offer.
I told her to do it and book me a flight. Ms.Yamamoto worked her magic and found one with only one short layover in Tokyo. She even wrote out directives for me to use once I got there. “You must use this,” she said holding the paper displaying the Japanese characters that meant nothing to me. “Use this one when you arrive and this one should you ever return.” She smiled.
“I do plan on returning,” I answered politely. She smiled politely and I thanked her for all of her help. I packed a bag and counted down the days until departure. I couldn’t wait to leave.
The whole trip, the idea of it, the thought of what to do, of which I didn’t have a clue, the stress of not knowing the language and traveling alone, and the excitement of going so far away, made the month pass quickly. I realized I needed to do this. I needed to get away. Despite my fears and apprehensions, I made the decision and was going to follow through with it. I determined to make the best of this crazy idea and make the most of it. Japan! I couldn’t believe that was my destination!
If you ask anyone to name a Japanese city they will most likely spout off the name ‘Tokyo’. I posed the same question to friends at work one day and they came up with Hiroshima and Nagasaki. One even remembered Osaka because of the Winter Olympics. But when pressed for more, the best anyone did was mention Iwo Jima. Nice try but that’s an island and not a city. They asked me where I was going. I smiled and told them as straight-faced as possible, “Kyoto”.
“What? Where the hell is Coyote, or whatever you just said?”
I informed them Kyoto was the old capital city of Japan. “And why not? What’s wrong with going to Kyoto, I countered? I had to pick somewhere. What I failed to mention was the incredible deal on the flat. In truth, Ms.Yamamoto had chosen for me after finding the apartment within the city limits. When she told me where it was I said the same thing as my friends: “Where the hell is Kyoto?”
The flight took nearly a full day but eventually, the plane landed in this mysterious city. After retrieving my bag I waved down a taxi and handed him the paper script written in Japanese. It stated the address to the apartment. Not knowing how much to pay the man, I opened my wallet and spread out the varying paper currency and let him pick what he wanted. I have no idea if he ripped me off or not. I didn’t care. All I wanted was a key and a bed on which to crash. Luckily the apartment manager had been expecting me. He gave me the room key and offered to show me where I would be staying. It was a third floor flat accessed by stairway only. We ascended and he pointed to the door to indicate that’s where I would be staying. The number was 312. There were three other doors all within a few feet of the third-floor landing that all emptied into the common hallway. I hardly took notice. They all looked the same and all I wanted was a bed so I could sleep.
Once inside, I noted the simple decor of the furnishing. There was a tiny kitchen (and I mean tiny). A small (cramped might be a better word) living room, bedroom, and funky looking bathroom. The mattress lay on the floor and not on a frame. I made up the bed and was asleep in minutes. When I awoke, it was dark. Checking the time, it was about 8 at night. I decided to get some air.
Just outside my apartment door, I saw a young woman about to enter the apartment adjacent to mine. I smiled and nodded and then bowed slightly. Bowing seemed to be the thing to do now that I was in Japan. And besides, the manager had done the same thing when just before leaving me. The woman smiled. I noticed her hand move to her mouth. I think she was doing her best to hide the larger grin and keep from giggling at the new American. I watched her disappear inside the door and turned to head down the steel staircase.
I walked the streets for about three hours. Knowing I couldn’t afford to get lost, I walked around the block without ever crossing to the other side. Seeing the hustle and bustle of this crowded city drew my attention. For as much as the unique culture of this city amazed me, I never lost track of how to get back to my flat. After returning to the apartment, I crossed the street foça escort bayan I walked around that block. With each return trip to the apartment, I went a little further and became a little more daring. What I noticed most was the people. They stared at me no matter where I walked. I soon realized I was the only person nearing six-feet. Most men hovered in the middle 5-foot range while their female counterparts were even shorter. It made me think back to the lady I glimpsed when leaving my flat. She was tall when compared to the majority of women walking nearby.
Was I the only natural blonde in this city? It sure seemed so. Everyone’s hair was black. Mine stuck out like a sore thumb. I was the only American around and so I kept getting the stares.
On my fourth circle, I heard the pulsing beat of a night club and went in to see what a Japanese club was like. Even in the States, I didn’t go clubbing, but hell, I was in Japan and I wanted to learn. I paid the cover charge and entered. It was more similar than different to what I would believe an American club to be like. Besides being overly crowded with music pumping out at a deafening volume, it looked no different than a dance hall back home. People danced. People drank and so I decided to do the same.
I enjoyed a few beers. I heard the woman next to me speaking English.
“What’s that over there?” I yelled and pointed to several figures that appeared to be humans standing motionless while supported on poles from below. They remained nondescript due to them being encased in a shimmering bodysuit. In some respects, they looked real but they also looked equally like a series of shiny black manikins.
The Oriental woman laughed. “You don’t know? You don’t want to know. Drink your beer and don’t worry about them.”
She turned away and I followed her advice and ordered one more round before heading home. Just before I found the key to the door, that same woman I saw earlier opened her door. She smiled and bowed ever so slightly and said something that I couldn’t understand. Her voice sounded melodic and her smile was disarmingly pretty.
I shrugged and replied in English. She grinned and shrugged in return. In a flash, she grabbed my hand and pulled. “Was she flirting with me? Was this an invitation to visit?” I looked at her more intently. I guessed she was about 30, maybe 35. Her hair was long and dark with bangs that framed a pretty face. Her figure was slender and her face quite appealing. I saw no harm with her extending a welcoming hand and decided to accept her offer. I thought it was quite nice of her to invite me in. I nodded and followed her inside. It was a decision that would change the course of my vacation and my life.
I saw that her flat looked very similar to mine. The living room was no more than a 10-foot square. A leather sofa and end table occupied one wall while a TV was mounted to the opposite one. A small coffee table was placed in front of the sofa and there were two stackable chairs in one corner.
She looked me up and down and then smiled. I realized she was quite pretty and probably younger than I initially guessed. She was wearing uniform slacks and a white button-down top. It was then when I wondered what were we going to talk about? It was apparent I didn’t speak Japanese and I was pretty certain she didn’t speak English. She turned and walked a few steps to where a stereo sat on a small shelf. I smiled when seeing it was a Bose stereo. Soon, the soft sounds of traditional Japanese music filled the room. I smiled thinking that given all of the Japanese electronic monopolies, this woman chose to purchase a US product. How ironic.
The lady looked me over from head to toe a second time and then smiled. She said something indiscernible and then let out the cutest giggle. I nodded. Feeling awkward and not knowing what to do next I said, “Tom,” and pointed to my chest. I bowed respectfully. “Tom,” I repeated.
The woman smiled and giggled again. It was a soft giggle – almost a coo. “Meiko,” (pronounced Meeko) she said in almost a whisper and pointed to the hollow between her ample breasts.
I pointed first to her and then to myself.”You Meiko. Me Tom,” I said triumphantly. Meiko giggled and nodded vociferously. Her smile was delightful. Meiko said something and pointed to the sofa.
She wanted me to sit. On the coffee table were two white covered plates. I hadn’t noticed them before. I wondered how long they had been there and assumed she was expecting me.
Meiko knelt between the sofa and table and tapped my thigh. She placed both hands behind her back and spoke. Not knowing what to do, I nodded. She repeated the motion and this time inhaled deeply and then smiled sweetly. I watched her remove the lid from one of the two plates. Hidden underneath was a white cloth. It was no larger than a washcloth. She mimicked picking it up and pressing it to her face and inhaling deeply twice more.
Meiko repeated escort foça the same gestures, but I wasn’t understanding what she was trying to tell me. It wasn’t until she grabbed my hand and pulled it to the uncovered cloth that I realized she wanted me to pick up the cloth. As soon as I did, she nodded, grinned and put both hands behind her back. Because she did everything with exaggeration I understood I was doing right. She wanted me to hold the cloth over her face. As I brought it closer, Meiko continued to shake her head up and down and smile. She was pleased. Finally, I understood.
Gently, I pressed the cloth to her face. I didn’t know if she wanted me to hold it or clean her face. It was warm and damp but I didn’t smell anything. Regardless, I held it lightly over her mouth and nose until she turned away.
She said something and took the cloth from me and placed it back on the plate.
“Tom,” she said and motioned for me to put my hands behind my back. I smiled and did as she wanted. Although I didn’t yet understand the meaning of this ritual, I figured I was at least learning one custom from this kind Japanese woman. I waited while she uncovered the other plate and quickly brought the cloth to my face. Covering my mouth, nose, and eyes she said something. Her words were soft and she talked in a higher pitch than what I was used to. Guessing the word she said meant ‘breathe’, I inhaled deeply and noted the potent vapors.
“Mo-ichido,” I heard her say. I inhaled again figuring that is what she wanted. This time I felt an overpowering sleepiness overtake me. Meiko kept the cloth pressed against my face and spoke again. “Mo-ichido.”
I breathed again. Her words were my last memory.
I have no idea how long I was out. It felt like it could have been all night but then again it may have been only a few minutes. The feeling I had was one of just coming out of surgery. My mind was in a fog and I had no idea of the time nor where I was. I looked around for a bit before orienting myself. I saw Meiko. Things came into perspective. I was in her home.
Meiko sat on the sofa holding a glass of red wine. She smiled when I made eye contact. I tried to sit but couldn’t. She had tied me down! I looked at her and then at my hands. I was laying on a mattress. She must have pulled it into the room from somewhere. Was this her bed mattress? My wrists were cuffed with leather straps and secured to something just beyond the edge of the mattress. She had pulled my arms out in a horizontal direction and spread my feet wide apart. I pulled against the leather restraints but they didn’t budge. Meiko smiled and spoke in that same sing-song voice. She was telling me something. Her look remained sweet and unfettered.
“Tom,” she said softly. I watched Meiko extend one foot out and stroke my forearm. Her shoes lay on the floor nearby. Her touch was gentle. I still felt like I was in a fog but things were coming into greater focus.
“My clothes? Where did you put my goddamn clothes!” I said angrily. All I got in return was a smile and that same little giggle. She said something and gave me that same look. When she giggled, it sounded almost like a coo more than a giggle. I pulled at the restraints again. Meiko took another sip of her wine. I wasn’t going anywhere and I could see she was completely content to have me lay with only my underwear on while she sat disengaged from my plight.
Meiko talked to me. I didn’t understand anything. What I gathered, was the tone of her words. She spoke so tenderly. If I hadn’t been tied down I would have taken her words to be spoken with love and kindness. I think she was trying to tell me something or maybe explain something.
She brushed her foot over the inside of my forearm again. I realized she had changed clothes. Her top was the same but she wasn’t wearing pants. Instead, she now wore the skimpiest of mini-skirts. It was black and allowed me to see long, sleek legs. She looked as sexy as hell but I was in no mood for whatever she had in mind.
Meiko kept talking. She kept smiling and kept making that cooing-giggle noise now and again. I watched her. She had shapely legs. They weren’t skinny and they weren’t chubby. They were just right. They were the legs of an active girl. Meiko was a pretty woman. She took another sip of her wine and spoke again.
I didn’t know what to do. Here I was, a 40ish-year-old American all alone and feeling as lonely and lost as hell. How in the world did I end up with this lady? I had to find a way to get her to let me go. I pleaded with her to undo the restraints. Meiko listened in earnest and let me talk. When I was through she smiled and giggled and said something. Again, I had no idea what. She waited for me to finish babbling. Only then did she stand. I watched her step astride my waist. Bending at the hips only, she reached down and pulled on a leather strap that circled my neck. It pulled so tight that I thought she was going to choke me.
“Holy shit!” I thought.
Meiko giggled again and smiled. Her look about melted any fear but the red flags in my mind had continued to rise. Why had I been leashed? She had to be into some type of kink but because I couldn’t understand anything she said, I had no idea what was going on or what was about to come.
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