Rika's Menagerie

A knock came at the door just as I finished wiping up. I shoved the dirty tissues into my purse, clapped my laptop shut, and ran to the door, gasping and sweat beading on my forehead. My eyes widened when I opened the door, and my heart dropped into my gut. The woman that stood on the other side was Yuriko Tanaka. A senior partner and someone that I looked up to and that I aspired to be. Oh no. She was about to meet with her clients in the room that I had just fucked myself silly in.

She gave me a perplexed look, which grew into a look of bemusement. She knows, I thought. She fucking knows! If my messy appearance didn't make it obvious, the smell certainly did. I groaned internally. A part of my soul left my body.

Of course, she didn't say anything. She only kept her smile and bowed politely as I jetted past her and the gaggle of businessmen behind her. I hope I never have to answer her. I prayed that I had just imagined her knowing look.

I sprint-walked straight to my office. I didn't even look at Rika as I flew by her. In the dust-settled glowing fallout of the orgasm, I sat shell-shocked at my desk. I could hardly comprehend what had just transpired. It felt like a strange dream. Like one of those fever dreams that feel so real and true as you experience it, but when you wake and revisit it, you realize how incredibly discordant, irrational, and silly it was. For my entire adult life, I had been nothing but seriously and ambitiously focused on a strait-laced life, strategizing it and carefully curating it to be peppered with accomplishments that I would be undoubtedly proud of in my twilight. I had commited myself to what they call in Japan, a kyariaūman (career woman) life. Such ambition required of me an obsessive level of commitment and willingness to sacrifice most other things that a well-balanced life should have. Like love, sex, familial relationship, meaningful friendships, and hobbies. Such things I decided long ago were low on the totem pole of my priorities. These things I was happy to sacrifice at the altar of high achievement. But now, feeling the collar cutting into the skin of my neck as I breathed, I felt like I was at the edge of a tall chasm which I had worked so damn hard to climb up, about to toss myself back in. I reached under my scarf and tugged at the collar. I fingered the soft leather. What now must I do?

My phone vibrated. It rattled coldly on my glass table. The rattling went straight into my skull.

I stared at the phone for a whole minute before picking it up, like I had to wait for it to cool off first. My pussy began to tighten up again like some sort of Pavlovian reaction. She already got me trained.

"How was the meeting? Successful?" asked the text.

I grimaced. My cheeks grew flush red as I texted back,

"Yes. Very."

When I set the phone back on the table, it vibrated again.

"That's a good pet. The final test is already waiting for you in your desk drawer. Wear it for the rest of the day. Lubrication might be necessary. Saliva works fine if you have nothing else."

Fearfully I opened my desk drawer. My eyes were drawn immediately to a foreign object. A metallic flared object like a wine stopper attached to a red bushy tail. A fox tail. I stared curiously at it, unsure what to make of it, until it hit me. I yelped loudly and slammed my desk drawer shut. It was a goddamn butt plug!

Nope. Never! Game over. It was fun while it lasted, but a fox-tailed butt plug was a bridge too far.

I flung my scarf off, unbuckled my collar, and stuffed it embarrassingly into my bag. I was having one of those moments, like when you're drunk and suddenly sober enough to realize you've embarrassed yourself.

I moaned loudly. I couldn't stomach being at the office any longer. It was still early in the afternoon, but I couldn't focus on anything for the rest of the day. Better to just retreat back home and spend the rest of the afternoon trying to forget about all the embarrassing things I did today. Maybe a long run to help burn it all off.

I found an envelope to slide the butt plug into. I sealed the envelope shut and left it with Rika as I left. I swiped my hand across my neck to indicate to her that I was done. She smirked and bowed her head. "Have a wonderful evening, Williams-san," she said softly without looking at me. I could tell she was disappointed in me. The way she said my name -- I would from here on out always be Williams-san to her. Never Jen. Never her 'pet'. Whatever. Screw her.

The afternoon run was pleasant. It was a crisp, sunny autumn day. I ran my favorite route through the park near my house. Running had always been my outlet. I always ran without music because that allowed the thoughts in my head to freely run their course. The silence allowed the thoughts to boil off. The park had a canal that ran through it and a running trail lined with rows of cherry trees along the canal. The cherry trees would be so beautiful in the spring with their pink blossoms. I couldn't wait to see them. But they were beautiful now, too, at the cusp of autumn, their leaves fiery orange at the fringes.

I ran my usual 10K route through the park, then another 2K around a city block for good measure. I finished at my apartment and paced up and down the street for a breather. After catching my breath, I headed in. I took a long shower and let the droning hot water keep my mind blank. Then I had dinner. A tuna salad that was my go-to when I wasn't motivated to make anything else.

While eating dinner, the thoughts of Rika and the collar crept back into my mind. I knew it would be hard to get rid of them. She was like a wine stain on the rug of my life. All I could hope to do was keep rubbing water and vinegar into it while it was still fresh in my mind. At least now, after my run, I was in a more zen place, which enabled me to look at it all from a more dispassionate perspective.

While I lay in bed, I ran the day's events through my head from the moment I woke to find the collar still on my neck. That sprite of giddiness that leaped from my heart when I felt it there like I was a kid on Christmas morning. The rush I felt as I arrived at the office that morning with it on. How everyone greeted me, not possibly knowing what was under my scarf, except Rika. Only Rika knew, and she didn't even bat an eye! She just gave me that smile that I loved about her. That crooked smile always looked like she had something cooking in her mind.

How incredibly brash she was to tell me to wear that collar to work. I've chastised associates older than her for far, far less. Yet somehow, she knew I'd wear it. And she knew that wearing it made me hot. She must have known from how damp my panties were and how much they must have smelled of my arousal.

The third test, I passed too. How clever she was to make me pleasure myself in a meeting room with such a tight time constraint rather than in the comfort of my own office. It was easier than I thought it would be.

But the butt plug. No way. I wouldn't wear a butt plug in the privacy of my home, let alone at work. Let alone one with a foxtail dangling from it! How did she think I would ever wear that?!

I don't think I could even fit it in. It was so big, and nothing foreign ever went into my butt. It wasn't something I was even remotely interested in trying. Pain doesn't do it for me. It just doesn't. At least as far as I knew. And then there was the tail! How humiliating. How degrading. How insanely weird. Imagine. The butt plug deeply penetrating my asshole, loosening up my tight hole, the soft bushy tail dangling between my thighs, grazing against my skin. Of course, no one would have actually known I had it in. They wouldn't have seen it under my long pencil skirt. I could walk around all of Tokyo, and no one would be the wiser. Wetness crept into my pussy again. My nipples grew tight. I shifted uncomfortably in my bed.

I would have passed the test if I had just put it in and worn it for a few hours. That would have been the final test. I would have proven my worth, then she would've told me her dirty secrets. She would have let me have more of her milk. And now, because I wouldn't put a simple toy up my butt, her milk was beyond the realm of possibility. But why was it even remotely worth it? What was wrong with me?

My crazy imagination swirled, made more lucid by the effervescent glow of the Tokyo night cast into my room. My penthouse was on a very high floor, and my windows were double-paned, so the city sounds were nothing more than a humming silence. Nothing could distract me from my fantasies.

What would have happened if I had done as Rika asked? She'd have to verify that I had it in. Maybe she'd bend me over my chair, pull my skirt down to see the proof that I had obeyed her -- to see that foxtail sprouting from between my ass cheeks, then, after seeing that I had done everything she had asked of me, she would reward me. Her tasty milk. That would have been the reward.

I groaned loudly. Ugh, why was I thinking that? Such a weird thought to have. Sickening even.

(Then why did I find it so hot?)

My pussy was on fire. It ached so badly. I needed relief.

I reached over into my nightstand cabinet and found my trusty rabbit. I clicked it on. It came alive with a low buzz. I held it to my wet, throbbing clit. I couldn't help but imagine having the butt plug inside me. I couldn't help but imagine Rika tugging on the foxtail while she fingered me. The butt plug would painfully resist. She'd tug hard, but my asshole would be too tight. It would stay inside.

Rika just wanted to push me to my limits. She wanted to guide me there, to be my teacher. To be my mistress. I've done so well up to that point. Wasn't it worth giving it a try? It wouldn't be too bad to try, at least, would it? Just to see? Who knows, maybe I'd enjoy it.

The watery glow of Tokyo began to pulse with the heightened rhythm of my heartbeat.

I came hard. It was messy, so I used a damp towel to dry it off. I needed a shower to wash off my sex, but I was too tired, so I dozed off instead. My last thoughts before sleep were of Rika and how I missed how the collar felt around my neck already, which was such a wrong thing to think, but I couldn't help but think it anyways. If she'd ask me again tomorrow to put that foxtail in, I just might do it.

When I woke up the following morning, the collar immediately sprang to mind, like it was nautural to think about it, as much as breathing was. I felt a strong urge to strap it around my neck, but I resisted the temptation. My mind was clear, and it was made up. There was no way I should ever compromise my career like I did yesterday again. Prudently, I left the collar at home.

Rika was, as usual, already sitting at her desk. She greeted me like she always did, and I greeted her like everything that had transpired yesterday had been wiped from my memory.

I went to my regular meetings. Phoned my clients. Took one client for lunch to an udon place with a Michelin star. It was nice. I went for another long run that evening to wind down. To my great relief, I had a normal, productive day at work. But as soon as I got back into the privacy of my own home and the quietude of my loneliness, my stable world began to shake at the foundation again. Those thoughts crept back into my mind.

The collar. I never got rid of it. It was still in my purse. I needed to throw it away. But I also needed to put it on. Just to see how cute I looked with it on. Just to feel its constricting form against my skin. Maybe I'd just put it on once as a ceremonial goodbye. Then in the trash, it goes.

Soon, I found myself standing in front of the mirror with the collar and nothing else. I looked so goddamn sexy. I had to pleasure myself. So, I did. In front of the mirror, with my back against the bathroom wall. I came so quickly. When I removed the collar, it left behind a reddened indented band on my skin.

The following day was another productive workday. I successfully left the collar at home and never once thought of it or Rika the whole day. Yay me.

I went for a long run again when I finished work. Another 10K. The temperature had dropped, so I could see the puffs of condensation as I breathed. I loved the wet, freshness of the autumn air. I loved the sweet earthy smell of the fallen leaves on the sidewalk.

Like the previous night, I thought of the collar again when I got home after the run. I tried my damndest to resist putting it on. It wasn't good for me. I tried watching a show on Netflix to drown the temptation out, but I couldn't. I just had to put it on. It had that magical hold on me. I was a prisoner to it.

I put the collar on and pleasured myself again. Like before, the orgasm was wonderfully intense. I fell asleep with the collar on in front of the TV, binge-watching a series I didn't really like.

The yearning to be Rika's pet grew stronger with every passing day. It became a routine for me to refuse the collar every morning but then put it on in the evening. As troubling as it was, I glumly accepted my need to put the collar on. I reasoned that it was harmless if I was doing it in the privacy of my own home. As long as nothing else happens, as long as Rika stays Takahiro's secretary and nothing more to me, why couldn't I have my secret fantasy? Yet every time I put the collar on, I felt the pull of an invisible leash. I knew Rika was at the other end of that leash, pulling relentlessly, and I was growing too damn exhausted to resist.

Two weeks went by. Two weeks was what it took before I broke. Two weeks and I was desperate. It was the loneliness that did me in.

It was a Friday night. After a business dinner, I took my clients to one of my favorite izakaya bars. The bar was near Rika's house. I had a few too many cocktails.

After my clients had gone, I waited for my taxi beneath the glow of a misty lamp light just outside the izakaya. It was cold. My coat was a little too light for this weather. It was quiet, too, the muffled chatter from within the bar like the gentle ruminations of a public radio talk show. The sounds of the nearby expressway droned like an ocean, coaxing out kinky thoughts in my mind.

I wanted to see her badly. I wanted to be near her. I knew these thoughts were bad to have. I knew they were unhealthy. But I was drunk, lonely, and horny, so to fight against them now, I might as well try swimming up a waterfall.

I took my phone out. I texted her and sent the text without a second guess. "I want to see you again."

I put my phone away. But as soon as I had, my phone buzzed. My heart skipped a beat. It was Friday night, so I didn't expect her to respond. I figured she'd have other plans and wouldn't want to hang out with boring, kinkless Williams-san. With bated breath, I pulled my phone out to read the text.

"Come over to my place tonight. Bring your collar if you like."

Then she texted her home address.

Nice of her to give me the option, but the collar was already in my purse.

"On my way," I texted back.

Rika lived in Shibuya. When my taxi came, I directed the driver there. I was surprised to find a large townhouse at the address rather than a dense apartment complex, as people her age tended to live in. This house, at least what I could see peeking over the tall granite wall and the manicured Japanese pines in the front, was an elegant, modern take on a traditional Japanese townhouse. It was one of those homes that might be featured in an architecture digest magazine. I double-checked the address. Sure enough, it was the right place. Maybe she really was a Yakuza queen. Maybe the secretary thing was a cover. There was a lot about Rika that I did not know, and now I wasn't sure I was ready to find out. I was nervous.

I rang the bell with a trembling finger. The gate swung open. On the other side was an immaculately manicured rock garden, sparsely populated with small, twisted pine trees, purple- and red-leaved lace maples, and little stands of bamboo. Little pagoda lanterns glowing amber illuminated a winding path to the opened front door.

A silhouette stood at the entrance to the house with the unmistakable shape of Rika.

I gave a shy wave. Rika bowed and then turned to walk into her home. She wore a red floral-patterned kimono and traditional white tabi socks. This was going to be a whole thing, it seemed.

I walked the winding lantern-lit path and up the wooden stairs to her house. Each slow step I took up the stairs was a soft creak, echoing the anxiousness in my body.

My eyes went wide as I entered her home. "Oh my God," I breathed.

I've stayed at the Four Seasons in Tokyo a few times. The design of her apartment, from the gleaming polished wood floor to the floral arrangements on the ebony cabinet countertops, to the red pine exposed beams across the ceiling, and the rice wall doors was as immaculately and tastefully considered as any five-star spa resort in Japan.

Rika sat, watching me quietly in a tatami-matted tearoom at the far end of the living room. A tea set sat in front of her.

"Welcome, Jen. Please come in."

"Rika, you live here?"

She gave a polite laugh and nodded.

"It's beautiful, isn't it? It is my family home. My father is an architect, and my mother is a designer," she explained. "They're retired to Sapporo now, so I have this little place to myself. Come have tea with me."

"I see."

It was a good cover story. It might have been true, but I wasn't convinced it was the whole story.

I took my shoes off in the entranceway, walked tenderly across the living room, and sat across from her. Besides the tea set, an iron pot sat inside a square recess between us, simmering over crackling embers. I was still so enchanted by the house that I had hardly looked at her since I arrived. I looked at her now, and the enchantment grew. She was beautiful. Her eyes were a wonderful latte brown in the soft light. Her lips were thin and sharp. Her kimono hung loosely on her shoulders, so I could see the delicate naked curve of her kissable neckline. I wanted her now. But I stayed patient. If I let her guide me, then surely, I won't be disappointed.

"Green tea?" she asked.

"Sure."

"It's matcha. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all. I love matcha."

In front of her was a small clay bowl containing the already prepared bright green powder of the matcha. She scooped out the powder with a long, thin bamboo spoon into a tea bowl, then ladled simmering water from the iron pot between us into the same bowl. She whisked the matcha vigorously to aerate the tea before handing me the bowl.

"I wanted us to have tea before we started, Jen, so you are comfortable. I know what I had asked you to do so far was not easy, and frankly, I was very surprised that you went as far as you did. I hope you know I don't want it to be stressful. I want you to enjoy your time with me."

The matcha was earthy, rich, and soothing. I sighed as I sipped it.

"I do enjoy being with you, Rika. And to be perfectly honest, as crazy as it sounds to hear it from myself, I enjoyed the tests."

I laughed incredulously. My face went red. "I enjoyed discovering how kinky I can be."

Rika smiled. "It's more than just sexy underwear."

"Yeah," I murmured. "But maybe I'm not quite kinky enough for a butt plug."

Rika giggled. "We all have our limits. But limits are fluid. They can change."

"I suppose."

Rika nodded. She sipped her tea.

A silence fell between us. We stared into each other's eyes. My smile grew. My cheeks blushed harder. I was just so happy to be here with her. I was happy if there was nothing else than drinking tea with her. But I was hungry and hopeful there was more in store for me. For us.

"So...," I started without knowing how to breach the subject without sounding desperate.