Poor Samurai (A Halloween Story)

In autumn the night falls fast in Tokyo.

At six the city is already dark, but of course it is brightened by giant billboards and shops' neon signs.

That Friday, my business meetings with the Japanese customers had finished in the early afternoon, so by now I should have been at Narita airport, ready to return home; instead, the company's Travel Manager had decided that it was cheaper to book me a Saturday morning flight.

Now I had an evening to spend by myself as a tourist, a rare occurrence in my usually busy schedule.

A colleague had told me that I could go and see the Halloween parade in Shibuya, which over the years had turned into a crazy extravaganza, with thousands of young people crowding the streets around the famous Scramble Crossing. Why not?

As I walked out of the train station, I looked around me surprised by the scale of the event. Once more the Japanese had taken something foreign and turned it into something different.

Young men and women, most of them university students, were having fun. Some wore conventional costumes, others explored the worlds of anime and manga.

Groups of foreigners joined the party, primarily Americans who leaned toward a more orthodox interpretation of the festival, dressed as zombies, witches, vampires, and monsters of various nature.

Besides looking for fun, the Japanese seemed to indulge in a certain taste of exhibitionism.

Across the square, a lovely girl was dressed just in her underwear, showing her curvaceous body; black fishnet stockings arrived up to half her round, shapely thighs. People stopped, took pictures while she smiled in return, striking sexy poses, happy to be noticed; for a moment she flashed a smile to me too. I continued walking, and I bumped into a spidery boy, dressed with a yellow leotard trying to look like Pokémon's Pikachu; but he lacked the cute cuddliness of the anime character. A group of girls dressed like Chinese ghosts, in blue cheongsams, a sheet of paper hanging in front of them, were approached by boys dressed in metal-looking alien suits.

The police presence, standing on elevated platforms, seemed excessive, given the placid, relaxed mood of the crowd. Suddenly a woman in uniform addressed me in Japanese. I looked at her puzzled, and she repeated her sentence to me in broken English.

" Boobs...you wanna touch?"

Maybe she was thinking I was trying to take advantage of the confusion. Of course not! I denied vehemently. She smiled.

"You wanna touch...MY boobs?"

I looked at her better, in disbelief.

She had the dark blue dress of a policewoman, the blue hat of a policewoman. Still, when I looked at her better, I realized that the blouse was open to reveal her generous breasts supported by a white bra that let half of them spill out and that the skirt arrived just below her ass, a white strip of flesh shining before the black stockings started.

I smiled, relieved, and extended my hands to touch her provocative bosom; there was no harm to go with the tide.

She let me do; actually, she seemed to arch her back and push her chest toward me, her long eyelashes fluttering flirtatiously. My hands went below the blouse and fully felt the soft, pneumatic mounds, and the thick, hard nipples, expanding below the bra's fabric. It was a moment of strange, dreamlike bliss amid the crowd and noise. Everybody seemed to notice everything, but nobody seemed to care.

Suddenly the policewoman hit my wrists with a rubber pole.

"What are you doing? Hentai(*1)!"

I retracted my grasp and jumped back.

She looked at me, laughing.

"Halloween trick!"

I let the crowd absorb me and sweep me away from that strange experience.

Now I saw another group of boys, dressed like high school girls, their thin, muscular shaved legs showing below their sailor uniform's short skirt. Actual high school girls were waiting in line to snap pictures with them. One girl raised one of the boy's skirts, and the bulge of the penis suddenly showed, folded below the white sheer of a tiny slip. The boy brought a hand to the mouth:" Hazukashii (*2)!" he shouted, and the girls around him laughed happily.

Again I moved away, gently pushed by the people around me. Suddenly I found a kind of remote control in my hand. A boy dressed as a samurai with a blond wig led me to a corner, a bit hidden. A girl was standing, her hands held behind her back by another young man.

I recognized brother and sister from the famous anime Kimetsu no Yaiba - Demon Slayer: the boy was wearing the green and black checkered mantle and a brownish scar on his forehead of Tanjiro, the main character; the girl had in her mouth the bamboo muzzle of Nezuko, his monster sister. She was beautiful, pale, her eyes colored by lenses of a light pink, which gave her an underworldly look expected by a lady demon. Her kimono was a patterned fuchsia with a white a red stash and a black jacket on top.

"You can play with her!" said the boy with me, winking at Tanjiro. I turned on the dial of the remote control slowly, and the girl trembled. It seemed she wanted to say something, but of course, she couldn't.

I continued moving the dial, and her reactions became softer, her eyes misty...I wasn't sure of what I was doing to her; I just guessed. I looked around me but again everybody seemed to be busy with their pursuits. Then the girl seemed to faint, lowered her eyes, and I was sure that she had reached an orgasm, and that I was operating a toy inside her body.

She raised her eyes, filled with tears. For a moment Tanjiro let her move her hands in such a way that she opened her kimono, showing her naked legs, up to the point where the thighs curved, opening up the space where I could see her pussy, covered by thick black hair, and in between the pink tip of the toy stuck inside her. The blond boy took the remote control from my hand and passed to a boy dressed as a baseball player with a rubber mask on his face.

The girl looked at him; she had folded the skirt, like an automaton, and what looked like torture seemed to continue.

Was she a captive? Should I call the police? I thought for a moment at the bosomed police girl...of course, only a foreigner like me could take her for a real one...but then, what could I say to a real one? Hadn't I played with her too?

A small herd of youngsters dressed like SuperMario characters and riding dinosaurs made of foam rubber, passed in front of me and pushed me away. I quickly lost interest in being a hero. I saw an Irish pub on the second floor of a building, and I decided to have a cold beer.

I was reaching for the stairs when a group of girls, dressed like punks, with long black coats, Dr. Martens' boots, and checkered shirts pushed me away.

It was a curious fight: they kept smiling, but at the same time I could feel their muscular thrusts pushing me until I was trapped among them. I tripped and fell on the floor, and all they suddenly were above me, and I couldn't move. People passed by and looked at me, some indifferent, others pointing to the foreign man being the prey of the punk girls.

The girls' hands started moving over me, unbuttoning my shirt, unbuckling my belt, lowering my trousers. Soon my trunks were down too, and one started playing with my cock.

"Hard!" she said in English. "Big!" she added, laughing with her friends.

"Please stop!" I shouted. Bystanders looked toward me with mild interest; a couple of girls dressed like nurses pointed at my erect cock and laughed.

The girl kneeled next to me. She spoke accented but good English.

"Shut up! Time to wear a costume too! You'll be a poor samurai!"

"Why poor?" I asked, suddenly curious.

"Because you can't afford a kimono!" she answered, laughing.

"I'll call the police!" I shouted.

"I am the police!" shouted back a white girl from the crowd, who wore a Police hat and a silver badge; she had long, bare, thin legs white as chalk. She kneeled too next to me, her truncheon playing dangerously with my exposed balls.

"Don't you like to play with young girls, pervert?"

"I am not...ahahah..."

She didn't care to listen to my answer; she stood and, before leaving, hit my scrotum, not with violence, but strong enough to make me cringe.

"Be quiet! It's Halloween...we are just playing. You won't regret it!" whispered the English-speaking punk girl.

"I am Queen...and the others are Countess, Duchess, and Marquise... you'll be Dog, or how we say in Japanese...Inu!"

Queen had her skull half-shaved and sported bright green metallic hair. Below the open shirt, a black camisole left bare the highest part of her flat, tattooed chest.

Countess and Duchess seemed twins, with short hair but a thick fringe that covered the forehead, one red and the other electric blue. They wore ripped pantyhose.

Marquise was the most sophisticated of the group, with long, permed hair, a thick belt around her thin waist, with a skull buckle.

As for me, I was now completely naked; they had taken my socks and shoes too, and I started feeling the cold of the night.

"What are you, a chicken?" commented the girl, noticing my goosebumps.

She showed me a white piece of cloth.

"This is a fundoshi...the only thing a poor samurai like Inu can own and wear!"

I had seen it before in movies and pictures, a loincloth that was the traditional Japanese underwear. Countess placed on my left shoulder, then through my legs covering my cock, pulled up through my butt crack, and then around my waist, securing it with a knot on the back.

"This won't do!" commented Queen, pulling the pubic hair that the fundoshi didn't cover.

It was now of Marquise to show her skills.

Out of nowhere, she pulled out a single-edged razor, and she enjoyed making the blade shine, turning the angle slightly.

"What... is she doing?" I asked, alarmed.

"Don't worry! She'll shave off the excessive hair...just don't move...if you don't want to spill blood..."

I had no alternative but to let Marquise have her way, and indeed, smoothly snd swiftly, she removed not only the hair on my groin but also the higher part of the thighs.

While I was distracted by the razor that danced on my skin, Queen snapped a collar on my neck with a plastic box on it.

"What is this?" I asked while I tried to make sense of its strange shape.

"Well... it's a shock collar... it's helpful to teach obedience and train unruly dogs..."

"I am no dog...aaahhh!"

An electric wave radiated through my neck and killed my words in my mouth.

"You see my point now, isn't it, Inu?"

"Yes..." I answered, meekly.

"Anytime you'll be less than obedient and willing to follow orders, it will be easy to put you in place... I'll hand the remote to Duchess...I assure you that she will be looking for excuses to make you feel pain...."

Duchess looked at me, with an indifferent smirk and smiled at Countess.

"Now...even the poorest samurai wears his chonmage proudly...Countess, go ahead!"

"What's...a chonmage?" I asked, alarmed.

"Well...a samurai's hairstyle!"

I knew that samurais wore a ponytail, but my hair wasn't long enough.

"I don't think that's possible - I commented -...but why the razor?" I asked innocently.

"Countess will have to shave the top of your head, of course!"

"Please! That's too much!"

A very light shock started flowing in my neck.

"Nonsense! "

I hoped that someone would notice my predicament, but everybody was too busy having fun, and in the middle of all the strange disguises and situations, mine didn't alarm anybody.

My final thought was that some guys would happily take my place, a middle-aged man surrounded by quirky but young girls.

Countess started shaving my head.

Inside my head, I was panicking, while the girls were looking at me, amused.

I could feel the blade, first removing lumps of hair, then cleaning my scalp.

I felt that the razor was stopping a few centimeters around the ears, leaving the top of the head fully shaved.

At a certain point, the girl stopped, and Queen showed me the result of her job with her phone.

I seemed one of those sad, middle-aged men who lost most of their hair with age, but the girls clapped happily on the result.

"Someone is waiting for you... let's go!" ordered Queen.

I stood up, and I walked escorted by the four girls, two in front, and two behind me.

People took pictures of our strange group: I wanted to object, but, of course, it was impossible. I just hoped that the peculiar haircut was a camouflage sufficient to disguise me.

At a certain point, the crowd surrounded us, and I felt that I had lost my guardians.

In a flash, I thought I could try my luck and escape.

I turned into one of the small lateral lanes, surrounded by masked people, and for a moment I thought Queen and the others couldn't find me anymore.

I started thinking about how I could return to my hotel with no wallet and practically naked.

Before I could finish elaborating my strategy, I felt extreme pain in my neck, and I fell on the floor.

The pain stopped, and I tried to open my mouth, but a new, powerful shock arrived before I could utter even a single word.

I could see Duchess and Countess coming toward me.

I tried again to talk, but a third shock stopped me while kneeling on the ground.

I looked at people around me with my eyes full of tears, hoping that my eyes could express my need for help.

Nobody seemed to understand.

"That naked gaijin is drunk..." was the most common comment.

Slave to the shock collar, I had no strength to object.

Quickly the girls grabbed me and made me stand.

Soon Queen arrived too.

"Next time the shock will be so strong you'll faint. After that, we'll make you sorry to be born... is it clear?"

I nodded, and we started to walk again down the street leading to the train station.

"Keep your head high! Look at people in the eyes!"

"Yes, Queen!"

Some people were indifferent to me, while others were disgusted, and others found me funny.

A couple of girls stared at me, gigglingly.

They were dressed like Disney's Snow White, with a red and blue corset, a white shirt below it, a red ribbon in the hair.

Probably Walt would object to the length of their yellow skirt, well above the knees, and to the white half-thigh stocking and garter belts.

Winning their shyness, they got closer and asked me to take a picture together.

I tried to ignore them, but an electric impulse made me stop.

"Are you going to say no to these lovely princesses?" asked me, Queen.

I didn't bother to reply, just moved between them, against the wall.

Queen insisted that, while facing the camera, I moved my body aside, so that my naked butt could be seen in the image.

"Don't forget to smile!" ordered Queen.

In turn, they passed their mobile phones to my captor, who snapped multiple pictures to ensure that she got their V-sign and my silly smile right.

"You can pat his ass!" she told the girls, and they did it, giggling happily.

They took more pictures, each with a hand on my buttocks, thanked the punk girls, and left smiling.

When was this nightmare finishing?

We reached the station, and we boarded a train.

The cars were crowded with people, most returning from work, very few from the Halloween parade, so I was even more conspicuous.

In front of me, Duchess started playing with my nipples, making them hard and pinching them painfully.

I could feel the fabric of the clothes of the people around me brushing against my naked skin.

Suddenly I felt a hand pressing my ass.

Snow Whites' touch has been soft and fleeting; this instead was persistent and grabbed my flesh like it was a piece of meat on a butcher's board.

I turned to look at the owner of that hand: it was a well-dressed, fortyish woman who looked in front of her, ignoring me while her hand took hold of me.

Her hand moved near the piece of cloth that ran through the butt crack; in the meanwhile, she started talking to Queen.

Distracted by the hands of my body, I could barely make sense of their dialogue.

At a certain point, she got ready to get off; she exchanged polite greetings with Queen and received a name card, which, from the orange logo I understood to be mine.

She read it, and then for the first time, she looked at me, with shining eyes and a cruel smile, a buyer evaluating how she could use me.

Then she disembarked, and I looked again at the passengers in the car.

In the crowd there was another foreigner, who was as lightly dressed as me.

This time though, it was a pretty girl, in her late twenties, who wore a transparent PVC nurse dress, with big red crosses that covered her nipples but left fully visible her large, full breasts.

Below the dress, she wore a similar transparent pair of panties, with a red zipper that started above her pussy, ran below her legs, and stopped above her anus.

It was clear that she was fully shaved.

She smiled at me, and I smiled back. She was wearing a collar like mine, but instead of punk girls, she was surrounded by boys fancily dressed, with sophisticated hairstyles. I guessed that they worked ad host bars.

She smiled at me again, but then she contorted her face. Her captors hadn't liked that familiarity and made her notice.

We exchange another look, this time avoiding any expression.

Knowing that someone was sharing my fate somewhat helped me.

She was so beautiful...not only she had delicate features, with deep green eyes and thick hair, following on her shoulders, but her body was feminine and voluptuous.

My cock, restrained in the small loincloth, was restless, and I was afraid it could challenge the way it was tied, and fall.

I tried to forget the woman, and I looked ahead.

For the first time I looked at my image that the glass window reflected like a mirror.

My naked body emerged, partly covered by passengers in between...one of my thighs, part of a shoulder...I looked at my face; the hairstyle made me one of those bizarre lonely men you occasionally meet in the Tokyo subway.

One of the punk girls looked at my reflection and smiled.

At the next stop, all of us got off: not only me with my girls, but also the woman with her boys.

It had been a short ride, but the area was very different from Shibuya.

It was very dark, and the streets were deserted.

Here the cold was pungent, and I felt my nipples, which had been teased in the train, hard and painful.

The girl walked in front of me, her lovely, large white ass luminous as a light post in the night.

Suddenly she disappeared from my sight, and immediately after I was pushed against a building.

I realized that there was a narrow stairway leading to a basement.

There was a door, and I entered what seemed a small club, with a stage and a few tables.

Behind the bar desk, there was a woman in her thirties, who wore a white, freshly starched shirt.

The place was deserted, apart of a woman who was clearly waiting for us.

She had a kind of withered beauty: she had freckles on her face, marks around her mouth, thick lips, and large, almond eyes.

She extended a hand and easily untied my fundoshi, which fell on the floor.

Then she held my balls like she was evaluating if I was worthy of her attention.

I tried to raise a hand, but a light shock made me stop.

"I heard your name is Inu, for you, I'll simply be the Lady."

I was not sure what was expected of me, so I just nodded.

My cock, hard, was dancing in the air.

She held its shaft with confidence and pulled the foreskin down.

"I love this scarlet color," she said while a finger played with the tip of the glans.

Suddenly she lost interest, cleaned the hand with a wet towel, and turned to the girl, who was standing next to me.

"And who are you?"

"My name is Johanna...."

The woman pulled down the zipper that covered her vulva, and her slit and shaved lips appeared, swollen in between the two vertical red stripes.