A Letter to Mary

Looking to Sato for his approval, Yoko returns to her seated position at your side. With fluid grace, she opens the collar of her kimono and lets its upper half drop into a luxurious silk ring draped around her hips. As I had noted earlier, her frame is diminutive, but this fact only draws attention to her conically shaped breasts which, with hardly a dip, stand out from her chest and are made especially enticing by her tawny skin and her dark areolae. The contrast between the freedom that her relatively modest, pointed breasts enjoy and the severe restrictions to which your own, more ample, breasts are being subjected is stark and wonderfully erotic.

Without a change in the calm expression that has been on her face from the outset, she bends forward and reaches a hand between your legs. Using her fingers to spread your labia, she presses the tip of one finger on the very tip of your clitoris. Telling you that it is the final step in completing Sato's image of female fecundity, she explains that she is going to teach your clitoris how to reveal itself. She tells you that her own clitoris has had this training and that the lesson is hard to bear. On the other hand, she assures you that you will not only bear but even come to appreciate the combination of vulnerability and accessibility that results from knowing your clitoris is fully distended and totally unprotected.

In spite of its falling under the shadow of your rounded belly, your vulva is dramatically displayed and completely available. It began to open during your binding, and by now it resembles a ripe fruit whose succulence has about to burst through its skin. At its center, I can already see the nodule of flesh whose education I am to witness. Bathed in your secretions, it glistens and, as Yoko's finger manipulates its tip, its stem seems to grow and throb. Bringing her other hand into play, Yoko captures its stem between her index finger and thumb, preventing your clitoris from retreating under its hood. Like a good teacher, she attempts to bolster your confidence and assuage your suffering by praising the progress you are making. In addition to her consolation, she offers you a vivid account of the anatomical changes that she is trying to produce. Namely, she says that your clitoris is rooted to your vulva like the bud of a young plant and that those roots must be loosened if it is ever going to grow. In some societies, that loosening is accomplished by draconian methods, by comparison to which her methodology is an act of kindness.

Perhaps because you are overwhelmed by the excruciating treatment to which you most delicate organ is being subjected, you make no attempt to move. On the other hand, it is obvious that you are under enormous stress: every sinew in your arms, stomach, and legs is visible through the film of sweat that swaths your entire body. Apparently out of sympathy for your plight, Yoko does not reprimand you for your occasional gasps, but her sympathy does not extend to your clitoris, which she continues to exercise for a full five minutes.

When she is satisfied that it has learned its lesson, Yoko finally releases her grip on your clitoris and stops teasing its tip. Rising to her feet, she moves in back of your bent head and leans forward so that her breasts hang against yours. Shifting her shoulders in a sensual dance, she drags her free hanging, pendent orbs across your rigidly bound ones. Again I am struck by the contrast between her small but lovely cones of tawny mobile flesh and the beautifully rounded contours of your livid pink and thoroughly incarcerated flesh. After several minutes, she backs off to a position in which the nipple of one of her breasts grazes your lips and her own lips can capture one of your nipples. By apparently mutual, albeit tacit, agreement, you draw her proffered nipple into your mouth and at same time as she draws yours into hers. The two of you, one, with her pert breasts dangling like ripe fruit, gracefully leaning over the other, with her generous breasts securely bound and pointing toward the ceiling, create a captivatingly beautiful study in harmonious contrasts, one that I will cherish forever.

I am startled from my reverie when, after several minutes, Sato rises and interrupts your and Yoko's sensual communion. Clasping Yoko by her shoulders, he pulls her into a standing position and pushes her to one side. He then drops to his knees and deftly divests you of the ropes in which you have spent the last half hour. Dazed, you are slow to respond to your freedom and remain in the position that your bonds had been holding you. I marvel at the gentleness he displays while helping you to your feet and guiding you over to me. That gentleness disappears when, after depositing you in a chair, he turns his attention to Yoko. Approaching her from the rear, he grabs the folds of the kimono ringing her hips and unceremoniously completes its removal. Now that she is entirely naked, I can fully appreciate the delicate perfection of her figure. Nothing about it is ostentatious, but everything about it is in proportion to everything else. She has a lovely oriental face whose features are framed by her straight dark mane of hair and accented by her dark eyebrows and high cheekbones. Her shoulders are thin but nicely padded, and they slope along pleasing line to her arms, which have a distinctly feminine layer of flesh through which a hint of the muscles beneath is visible. Her breasts assert themselves proudly in two pointed cones, and her waist looks as if it could be spanned by my hands. Below her waist, her small but rounded belly swells between her hips, which are small but ideally suited to the rest of her diminutive frame. As for her legs, they are thin but have enough flesh to give them a invitingly feminine appeal.

Sato is not immune to her appeal, but he is intent on asserting his authority. He maneuvers Yoko until she is standing below a bar that is suspended from the ceiling. He stoops to tie one end of a long rope to her right ankle and throws the other end over the bar. Standing behind her, he raises her leg by pulling on the loose end of the rope, not stopping until her bound ankle is at the same height as her head and she has lifted herself onto the toes of her unfettered foot. Encircling her with his arms, he closes the gap between her front and her suspended leg before locking the two together with several loops of rope.

Teetering on the toes of one foot with the other foot grazing her ear, Yoko makes an enticing image. In that she must be painfully aware of the blatancy of her exposure, it is miraculous that her face maintains its look of composure. Although her right breast is partially concealed by her raised leg, the nipple of her left breast stares directly at us like the eye of some mythical beast. Even more dramatic is the effect of her position on her nether regions. The stress of having one leg raised and the other struggling to support her body has enhanced the rounded shapeliness of her upper thighs. At the same time, her pose thrusts her vulva forward and reveals its interior.

In view of your own recent ordeal, it is not surprising that you take particular interest in the way that Yoko's clitoris peeks out between her labia. Noting your interest, Sato beckons you to come over for a closer look. Accepting his invitation, you approach Yoko. Standing directly in front of her, you run a solicitous hand over her features, brushing back a few strands of her hair that have strayed from her otherwise disciplined coiffure and then lowering your hand to cup the underside of her left breast. You seem fascinated by the shape and texture of her breast, which you palpate with your fingers and then lean forward to suck its turgid nipple deep into your mouth. You suckle her teat for quite a while before, leaving it wet with your saliva, you drop to one knee and begin your intimate inspection of her vulva. Using both hands, you brush aside the curtain of dark hair that obstructs your view and then place your hands on the sides of her mons with your thumbs in the crease between her labia. Like a gardener tending a nubile plant just emerging from the ground, you caress the stem of her distended clitoris, testing its resilience when you bend it and encouraging it to assert its presence. Initially, your touch is gentle, but as you proceed it becomes less so. I suspect that, having satisfied your curiosity about an anatomical structure which you yourself possess but have never seen in such lurid detail, you are taking revenge for the less than gentle treatment that Yoko accorded the same structure when she had you at her mercy. You relent only after you succeed in cracking through her stoic demeanor and elicit a gasp of undisguised anguish from her lips.

When you return to my side, Sato releases Yoko from her bonds. With both her feet back on the floor, our view of her vulva disappears. On the other hand, she makes no move to obscure our view of her nudity, and, standing next to her master, her beautifully sculpted body presents a striking image. Indicating that our session with him is at an end, Sato asks whether he has met our expectations. When we reply in the affirmative, he bows and says that it has been his and Yoko's privilege to work on as lovely and compliant client as you. Then, with somewhat feigned modesty, he suggests that there is more that he can teach you and asks if you might want another lesson. Understandably, a tremor passes over your still naked frame at the thought of submitting yourself again into this man's hands. Seeing your reservations, Sato explains that his ropes can be used in many other ways, among which is the presentation of the female body for intercourse. For instance, you can suspended in various positions that leave you available for entry while literally floating in the air. Satisfied to have planted such ideas in your mind, he smiles, bows again, and escorts Yoko from the room.

In recognition of the arduous workout that you have just had, we take a taxi back to the hotel. Because they are still swollen and somewhat sore, you have left your breasts free under your blouse, and during the taxi ride snuggle them against my arm and ask in a hushed voice whether I do not find them at least as attractive as I found Yoko's. I assure you that I do.

Even before I unlock the door to our room, you begin unfastening your skirt, and by the time that we enter you are nearly naked. Sato may have released you from your bonds, but he did nothing to release you from the desperate state of sexual excitement that he and Yoko systematically provoked. As a result, our lovemaking is tumultuous but brief, leaving us both in a dreamy state of lassitude. Neither of us has the energy to go out for dinner, and so we order a pizza and take showers while we wait for it to arrive.

Hesitant to broach the subject but anxious to hear your version of the our time at Sato's studio, I ask whether you have recovered from your binding. By way of response, you open your bathrobe to expose your front. Even though they have returned to a more normal color and size, your breasts and nipples are still larger and their color darker than normal. Otherwise, all evidence of its subjugation has receded from your body, even the rope marks which had been visible earlier. I am relieved to see that you have suffered no physical harm, but I am less interested in the imprint that Sato made on your body than I am in his residual effect on your psyche. However, I am at loss when it comes to formulating the questions I want to ask and therefore choose to see if you will volunteer the information that I seek. I could well understand if you chose not the divulge the emotions you felt while the most intimate portions of your anatomy were on display and forced to perform. Thus I am surprised when you close your bathrobe and spontaneously start telling me how you feel about what was done to you this afternoon.

You speak as if you were reporting on the lessons you had been taught during a day at school, Sato being the head teacher and Yoko his teaching assistant. Sato's lesson for the day was that there is pleasure in ceding control of ones body to another individual. By choosing your breasts as the first place to demonstrate his point, he immediately forced you to recognize that even the most tender and traditionally inviolable portions of your anatomy were to be subject to his will. He emphasized his point when he bent you backwards so that your breasts and vulva would look as if they were being offered as sacrifice to some demanding deity. When that deity turned out to be a female, you were initially relieved, assuming that any fellow female would have sympathy. However, Yoko soon taught you the fallacy of that assumption. Knowing that she understood, far better than a man could, exactly what sensations she was producing, you abandoned you last hope and resigned yourself to accept whatever she chose to do. From the beginning, you knew that she would deny you an orgasm. Exquisitely exciting as you found her diabolically skilled manipulation of your clitoris, you, like Tantalus, would be forced to strive toward a goal which you would be prevented from attaining. When she finally released your clitoris and offered you her breast in return for her own, you were so overwhelmed with gratitude that thoughts of revenge did not even enter your mind. It was only after Sato had reversed your roles and gave you access to Yoko's splayed vulva that you became conscious of your desire for revenge. In fact, it was not until you looked up after examining her vulva and saw her composed features that you became determined to undermine her resolve and force her to acknowledge her vulnerability. Hours later, you now express some embarrassment about the pleasure you felt when you heard her gasp and knew that you had succeeded.

You hug your robe closer around you when I inquire into your feelings about being relegated to the role of ornament for the enjoyment of others. It is clear to me that you are still coming to terms with that idea. Nonetheless, you courageously try to convey to me what passed through your mind during your time as an objet d'art. At first your shock at the loss of control over your body prevented you from thinking about anything else. It was not until Yoko melded her own body to yours that you fully appreciated the aesthetic and erotic potency of the scene Sato had designed. After a moment of further reflection, you shudder and add that relinquishing control and abandoning yourself to the will of others is a terrifying but enthralling experience that you will not soon forget.

Seeing the disturbance that these memories cause you, I refrain from reminding you of Sato's parting suggestion. We go our separate ways late enough tomorrow afternoon to give us time to accept his invitation. However, the decision whether to accept it is yours to make, and, confident that you have not forgotten the invitation and know, better than I, its implications, I choose to wait until you have reached that decision on your own.

We retire for the night, and you have no trouble falling asleep shortly after I turn off the light. However, your dreams are filled with vivid images of scenes from the day, and you wake early. When I too wake up, I find you deep in thought sitting with your back resting against the headboard and your legs drawn up toward your chest. Based on the look on your face, I fear that your decision is to avoid another experience of the sort you had yesterday. Thus I am unprepared when, before I rise, you announce that you want to return to Sato's studios and ask that I call him immediately to make the necessary arrangements.

As she had on our previous visit, Yoko greets us at the door and escorts us to the room in which Sato is waiting. Again he undresses you, but this time I am to be naked as well, and so, while he removes your clothes, Yoko removes mine. When they have our clothes piled in neat piles on a chair, Sato leads you to stand under the hanging bar to which he had attached Yoko's leg the day before. Trembling visibly, you follow him. I am impressed by the brave, if somewhat wan, smile on your face. Once there, he bids you sit on the mat. Next to you on the mat is a heap of items whose purpose you are destined to learn, and above you is a rope whose purpose you can more easily guess. Indeed, this rope runs over the bar and its far end is wound around the drum of an electric winch. Clearly, it is the means by which Sato will achieve your suspension. Not so obvious is the role that will be played by a brass ring which circles the rope and is itself connected to another winch via smaller ropes that follow the same path over the bar as the main one.

Kneeling behind you, Sato fastens a wide canvas belt securely around your midriff. At the place where this belt passes over your spine, there is loop to which he ties the main rope. Nodding to Yoko, who is standing by the panel that controls the winches, he has her take up all the slack. As a result, part of your weight is now supported by the belt, which has reduced the girth of your already small waist. He then turns his attention to your legs. From the pile, he chooses two straps. At one end, these straps flare out into canvas belts similar to the one around your waist. At the other end, they taper into ropes with clasps at their ends. Working on one leg at a time, he wraps these canvas belts around your lower legs, positioning them between the your calf above and your ankle below and locking them in place with a velcro latch. Standing up, Sato reaches over your head and hitches their clasps to eye bolts embedded in ring. Again nodding to Yoko, Sato has her use the second winch to draw up the ropes on the ring. As the ring rises, your legs have no choice but to follow suit, and you soon find yourself sitting on the points of your pelvis, a position which would be precarious if it were not for the support afforded by the belt around your middle. When your feet reach the level of your head, Sato signals for Yoko to stop the winch, solicitously giving your leg muscles time to adjust to their stress. After about a minute, he has Yoko resume their raising, this time stopping only when your legs are stretched straight and form a V whose apex is your vulva. Finally, Sato uses diminutive versions of the straps on your legs to fasten your wrists above your head to the sides of the triangle made by the ropes that hold your ankles.

Limber as your body is, it is nonetheless in pain. Every tendon and ligament in your legs and hips has been stretched to its limit. Particularly evident are your hamstrings, which protrude along the backs of your legs, but they are not the only part of your anatomy that is protruding. Because the rod prevents your legs from coming together, your breasts are clearly visible through the V. At the same time, your vulva has been drawn out of its usual shadowy residence and has become the most prominent feature below your waist. Your pose lacks the aesthetic refinement of the one you held yesterday, but it lacks none of the drama or erotic appeal, especially because I now understand how Sato intends to make you float while we make love.

With another nod to Yoko, your ascension begins. Both winches are at work this time so that your position is maintained as your body rises. When your vulva is a couple of feet off the mat, Sato has Yoko stop the winches and has me join him in front of your suspended body. My penis is already fully erect, bobbing up and down in search of a welcoming nest. When I am standing directly in from of you, Sato signals to Yoko with his hands, having her raise and lower you until your vulva is at the exactly the same height as my penis. As soon as he is satisfied that it is, he bows and, followed by Yoko, decorously leaves the room.