Whitewash High: Rising Sun Ch. 09

Sometime in the Future

"Get up, piece of shit!" Nik cursed.

Bone cracked sickeningly in the air. A hard knee struck home on the man's jaw.

"Don't pay your bill, you've got to deal with me. Understood?"

Nik spat on the sobbing patron. The man laid out on the dirty alleyway. Cowering in fear, he tossed his wallet onto the ground. The tall, muscular gaijin stared down ominously. The catch? No one knew a gaijin just beat the shit out of a local. Nik sported a fancy wrestling mask, concealing his identity perfectly.

"Come on," Nik said aggressively to a young lady. "You still look good. Go back to working the corner."

Like the man, the prostitute fearfully hurried off to complete her task. Dusting off an expensive, fancy suit, Nik cracked his neck. Another night, another dollar to be made. He had a war chest to build.

The Present

Nik looked into the mirror located in his tiny apartment's washroom. Life changed, he could see it in his eyes. Vim and vigor were replaced with a depressive glare. The glint of happiness replaced with the cold reality of loss. Each day became a struggle to roll out of bed. Every waking moment a reminder of a heaven excommunicated without cause.

A bottle of pills sat ominously on the sink counter. Some nights he sat and stared into a cup of coffee, transfixed in thought. Some nights the only reason he didn't down the entire bottle was his blood oath. It gave him purpose, a reason to keep living. But it didn't make life any easier.

Dressed and sitting in the subway, a checklist scrolled in the mind's eye. Today he'd be given a real script for a film. Musashi wanted him to try his hand at a real film. Something raunchier to tantalize the audience. A message told him to meet Ryuji at a real world location, some prop shop specializing in masks.

"Finally dragged yourself out of bed, gaijin."

Ryuji leaned against a modest car next to the rendezvous spot. Toothpick between his lips, and glasses halfway down the bride of his nose, he didn't try to hide a machismo aire.

"Morning to you too, Jap," Nik replied to Ryuji.

"Great to see your sense of humor is working early in the morning. Come on, we need to get you a costume."

"I'm a director, what do I need a costume for?"

"Security, obviously. Earth to gaijin, you're a gaijin, don't you remember the conversation yesterday?"

The yakuza noticeably limped with every step. A disability didn't diminish the man's machismo. An 'I don't give a fuck' attitude radiated strongly. Inside the shop, the walls were lined with fancy masks of all sorts. Immediately, Ryuji walked over to the wrestling masks.

"I'm going to be a wrestler?" Nik asked.

"No, it is your disguise. Wear it so no one knows you're not Japanese. With your crisp accent, no one will know the difference."

"Except the dude behind the counter."

"He works for us. No worry here. Do you think I'm an amateur?" Ryuji scoffed. "Pick one you like. It is you being forced to wear it."

Nik took a long time browsing the wares. He went along with it. Why not? It made perfect sense.

"Wide range of choices."

"We try to supply all tastes. Never know what someone will want," Ryuji answered.

"That one looks good," he said, pointing to a mask. "Can I try it on?"

The clerk took it off the wall, behind the counter, and handed it over. A mirror sat on the countertop, like if in a glasses store.

"Looks good. I like it."

"I guess."

"Like you said, Ryuji, I'm the one who has to wear it all the time."

Royal purple color. Two cross-shaped swords pierced the eyes like tears. The outer shell was made of a slick, plastic material. Inside, a thin fabric covered the face directly. The mask wasn't exactly what he wanted, but for all the masks in the shop, it was the only one he liked enough to wear.

"Fits good. Need to get used to breathing through a mask. Smells a bit stale, but the inner fabric feels soft."

Ryuji shrugged, handing over some cash to the clerk.

"Keep it on as we drive to the studio. Give it a trial run."

"Don't you think I'll be drawing more attention wearing this than if I just looked like a foreigner?" Nik asked, walking to the parked car.

"Obviously, but again, secret identity. A lot to learn. Think superhero. That is what you westerners like to read about. Take that mindset."

"So what is the script about today? Another lesbian scene?"

"Nope, a point of view scene. We need you to star and direct in it."

Before Ryuji could start up the car, Nik put a hand on the wheel to stop him.

"I told you guys I'm not going to perform in a film."

"You will with this person. She is special."

"Aren't they all special."

"You want to fuck the Ueno clan, right? Why do it metaphorically? Do it literally. We picked up the wife of a low-level member. No one to write home about but a good jumping off point."

"How am I going to hurt them by fucking his whore of a wife?"

"You dumb as a brick house, or you don't know Asian culture very well do you, gaijin? Fuck his wife and you fuck his face. We put her on film, sucking down some white guy's cock, he won't be able to command any aura of respect with his underlings. That, or he beats them into submission causing a rift and hatred."

"No. Not going to do it," Nik said, sternly.

"What else do you bring to the table?"

"What?"

"What else do you bring to the fucking table, gaijin?" Ryuji berated Nik. "You're not a combat expert. Not ex-military or special agent. You're a school teacher. The only value you bring to us is you've got a big cock. That is it. I'm not Musashi. He cornered himself with his life debt nonsense. I don't give a shit about you and that life debt. You got lucky saving his sister. Lucky. He put me in charge of you because he knows I won't put up with any shit. We're not going to bend over and risk our organization so you can get your revenge. This is life, not a fucking movie. So do the film, or get the fuck out of my car, you ungrateful bastard."

Nik sneered. The dressing down pissed him off, riled him up. It took every ounce of self-control to keep from smashing Ryuji's head against the steering wheel. Conscience versus a blood oath. Nik realized he backed himself into a corner by swearing he'd avenge Anri no matter the cost. Now he knew the cost. He wasn't stupid to think he'd never meet another woman in the future, but he did think it'd be for romance, not pornography.

"I might be a bastard but I'm not ungrateful. I'm more thankful to Musashi than you'll ever come to realize," Nik spoke calmly. "The scene will be my way, no way else. I don't care about her. She is a means to an end, and I'll use her that way."

"I've got no conscience, gaijin. All I care about is the family. Make her bleed for all I care. Put on a good show for the audience and make us a war chest. Earn your keep."

"I'll earn more than my keep. I'll earn enough you won't be looking down on me anymore."

"I'll believe it when I see it. Now that we've gotten over our periods, we have a show to produce."

Ryuji finally started up the car, driving the pair to the clan's film studio. The long drive remained silent, both giving the other space. Tension moistened the air and any comment could spark a thunderstorm.

X

The script kept the scene simple by there being no script. Musashi gave Nik free reign to run the show as he saw fit. Inside the locker room, Nik sat on a bench, brooding. One fist clenched tightly, trying to let the hurt fade away. Revenge, he was learning, cost a man's soul.

Mask on, and dressed in a simple robe, he walked out of the locker room to the set. The gangster's wife sat on the couch. A simple backdrop and a sturdy, comfortable couch were all the props needed for the scene. The woman looked average. Anyone with yellow fever would add a point or two on the attractiveness scale, but a glamor model she was not.

Nik ordered the cameraman to handover the handheld camera, and get the secondary camera running. Right to business, sitting in the director's chair just off camera.

"So, Haruka, is it? Welcome to the set. Why'd you want to be a pornstar?"

Haruka shifted uncomfortably on the couch, embarrassed by the question. Dressed simply in a plain dress, and typical housewife makeup, nothing stood out to show her off as a fake model. Nik wanted to keep it real, painfully real.

"I'm bad with money. I owe cash to the wrong people," she replied meekly.

"Hubby doesn't make enough to pay off your shame? What kind of job does he have?"

"He is a businessman," she lied.

"Is that what they call yakuza these days in Japan?"

She nodded, just as meekly as her voice.

"What does hubby think you're doing this very moment?"

"Uh...I told him I was drinking coffee with friends."

"Bad at gambling, and a liar. Aren't you the perfect wife for a gangster?"

Nik twisted the knife. No love or nicety. The entire purpose crafted to fuck minds.

Haruka nodded again.

"Well, Haruka, you're in luck. I've got a wad of cash right here for you. Enough to pay off every yen of your debt," he said, grabbing the stack of cash on an adjacent table.

Her eyes perked up, looking directly at the cash Nik riffled through. She knew doing the film meant getting out of debt, but actually seeing that much cash brought it into reality.

"So, you know what you have to do for this, don't you?"

"I've got to make love to you..." she whispered.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you."

"I've got to make love to you," she said louder.

"No, not at all. We're not going to make love. We're going to fuck. I'm going to give you the hardest fuck of your debt ridden life. One that your limp dicked husband is going to enjoy jacking off to, and you'll be begging me to keep fucking you on the side."

The intensity, the fire in Nik's voice frightened the middle-aged housewife. Despite being married to a gangster, she insulated herself from the violence of that world.

Nik stood up, strolling in front of Haruka. The cameras kept rolling. The close-up of her face showed discomfort and shame.

"Don't be shy. Reach in and grab it. You're here to be a slut, so embrace it," Nik encouraged her.

Seconds ticked by, an eternity in film time, before she gathered the courage to touch the bulge with a hesitant finger. Nik arrogantly smirked, grabbing her hand to push it onto the bulge completely.

"Hubby must be shit in the sack if you're this shy about a simple stroking. He doesn't light your fire? Or are you a dead fish in the sack?"

Haruka kept stroking the thickening cock. It kept growing larger, thicker, peeking out of the robe. The Japanese MILF swallowed hard, afraid of what she got into. So used to small cocks, this monster could barely fit in her fingers.

"You're going to get a real fucking, slut. Better be ready because I'm not your boy toy lover. I'm a customer getting my monies worth from your sweet cunt."

"It is so big. Is it real?" she asked, mesmerized.

"Suck it and find out."

Slowly, she leaned in, lips sealing around the head. Jaw muscles strained to fit such a small amount of cock inside. Her tongue licked the pisshole, brushing it. She could taste dried piss, making her wince in disgust. But still, like a dutiful whore, she kept licking.

"You can do better than that. I want you to bob your head on it like a pro. If you don't, I'm going to fuck your face, and I won't be fucking it for your pleasure," he informed her.

Spurred on by the implied threat, she did as she was told. Each suck forced slop to run down the sides of her face, splattering the white, sheer top. Haruka sucked her husband's cock before, but the sheer size difference made her feel inferior and awkward.

Nik didn't care. He wanted to debase her, to ruin her, to make the woman become a raving cock whore. Ryuji said his only weapon laid between his legs. So be it. He'd be a master wielding it. One hand planted on the back of her head, he began pushing his hips forward.

"I didn't say how long I'd give you. I'm an impatient man. Better relax that throat cause I'm going to shove it all in," he said.

Each thrust met resistance from the tiny mouth. Nik knew before trying that it was a battle that would be lost, but he still wanted to do it anyways. It'd be lewd to see on camera, seeing this standard housewife fail at gobbling down a thick piece of white manmeat. The catch? No one knew his real identity thanks to the mask.

The entire time Nik spent in the hospital, he worked tirelessly on speaking fluent, natural, Japanese with a perfect regional accent. He had to admit that Ryuji and Musashi showed smarts putting him in a mask. No one would be the wiser. Caucasians and Asians have the same skin color, so other than facial features how can you tell the difference when masked?

Haruka gagged and sputtered, doing her best to handle the facial assault. Never had she been treated roughly like this, used like a toy. Her husband would do a few thrusts, some hanky panky, and then roll over and sleep. A couple minutes of matrimony and back to the boring tale of a housewife. This experience, the complete uncaring about her own pleasure, actually turned her on. A dampness spread between her legs. Without asking, Haruka pushed a pair of fingers along the crotch of her panties, under the skirt.

Nik saw her motion but made no action to countermand her. If the slut wanted to finger herself, all the better. It'd make the show more cerebral, and plunge the knife deeper into the mind of the Ueno thug.

"Getting wet down there, slut? Getting facefucked by a giant cock making you feel like a real woman?" he asked.

Obviously, she could only mumble out unintelligible words. Nik had to pull out to get it on camera. With the lens shoved directly in her face, all viewers could see the sheen of delight across her corneas.

"Yes, it feels good. I want more."

"You want to be treated more like a slut?" Nik asked.

Haruka nodded.

"Then say it. Tell the people watching you're a cheap lay."

Haruka got caught off-guard by the order. It was hard to think of the right words to express what Nik wanted.

"I want you to fuck me. I need this huge cock inside me."

"You can do better than that. Don't be a boring wife. You gambled all that money away because you live a painfully boring life. No thrills or excitement. So use that as inspiration. What do you want to do?"

She stroked his large, veiny cock as she thought. Both hands held the thick shaft but room remained for more hands to worship it.

"I want to get gangbanged. I want a dozen men to run a train on me. My husband is boring. I need to make up for lost time."

"Yeah, you're definitely a total slut. I'll put you through your paces and then I'll make you work the streets for me," Nik said.

He immediately smirked at the idea, a light bulb going off in his head. Musashi did say he worked as pimp. Why stop at a simple fuck video? Putting her on the streets to sell herself off would line their pockets faster. Or better yet, put the woman's phone number on screen for customers to call for an appointment.

Without a care in the world, Nik pushed the girl over onto her back. The handheld got every scintillating moment. Up went the skirt, revealing standard panties. Nik simply pushed them to the side before sticking his cock straight into the housewife. The first inch made her eyes widen in pain.

"You're too big!" she screamed out. "Take it out!"

Nik ignored the comments, pushing in hard. Haruka kept saying to pull out but her face told a different story. Experienced eyes could see through flushed features, and pure bliss glowing. The more she protested, the more she moaned. Contracts were signed, so legally, not rape. All the protestations were a game, a kink, for the viewing audience.

Nik thought of exciting names for the series because he knew Ryuji would be setting him up with other girls. Yakuza Rapedolls was the first name to come to mind.

"You are one tight bitch. Fuck, you're milking me dry. Keep saying no, whore, it only makes me harder," he egged her on.

Spitting on his free hand, he slimed her face. Makeup gunked up, and the girl began crying.

"Cry for the best fuck in your life. Tears of joy, whore. You can go home to hubby later, cunt full of cum, and feed it to him. Let him rub his pathetic pecker against you and jerk off to what a real man did."

Haruka's body began spasming, and a large gush of liquid shot out of her cunt.

"Fuck, did you just squirt? You never told me you're a squirter."

Nik immediately pulled out. Fingers replaced the large cock, pistoning fast. One accidental squirt lead to a follow-up forced squirt. Nik knew the right spots to pleasure, and like clockwork, the housewife sprayed the air like a sprinkler system.

"Please, finish...please?" she meekly asked.

"No, we'll be done once I jizz in you three times. You want this wad of bills, don't you?"

Haruka nodded, exhausted from the double ejaculation.

Nik backed up, camera still focused on Haruka. Grabbing the cash, he walked over and tossed it in the girl's face. Stunned, she didn't react. Everyone in the audience watching also didn't know how to react. All but one. Ryuji smiled, impressed.

"Unique tricks. Natural abilities. I need to find him better paints," Ryuji thought.

An hour later, the cameras stopped running. A single take. No cut-offs or stoppages. Nik came three times in the housewife, just as he proclaimed. By the third climax, the woman held her own legs open, and howled to the moon like any other Japanese porn star.

Nik laid naked on a bench in the locker room, staring up at the ceiling. Clapping broke up the peaceful moment of reflection.

"Bravo, gaijin. I honestly didn't expect anything from you. I thought you'd be some big dick brute. No style or substance. But shit, that money throw gave me goosebumps."

Nik ignored Ryuji's praise.

"Still sulking?"

"Fuck you."

"Yeah, I don't swing that way. We've got another housewife lined up for you tomorrow."

"Pimp her out," Nik said.

"What?"

"You heard me. Haruka. Pimp her out. Put her phone number on the screen during random parts of the film. Make her a real whore."

"You know that would be illegal."

"Sue me."

Ryuji laughed.

"Keep proving me wrong, gaijin. Fine, fine, your way. We agreed on it. I'll relay the artistic license to the editors. But how are we going to collect the money?"

"I'll make a house call."

"Cocky after one fuck, aren't we? Well, can't have you go off and die on us after a simple collection. You'll need to learn some self-defence sooner or later."

Ryuji walked off, leaving Nik still staring up at the locker room ceiling. A single tear streaked down the side of his cheeks. He had zero doubts the sex would look electric on film, but reality set in, real reality, not talk and planning. He fucked the gangster's wife like a whore, the first woman he touched since that tragic night. Nik felt nothing though, not dirty or soiled or ashamed. He cried because truth of the oath became reality. He sold his soul, and what was once a pleasurable, romantic experience, felt no different than when jacking off to a porno magazine as a horny teenager.

X

Musashi picked up Nik in the morning, changing the plan Ryuji outlined in the locker room. After breakfast at a noodle joint, he drove the pair out into the countryside.

"A dojo? Someone there is going to teach me karate?" Nik asked in the car.

"We've kept a dojo on the payroll to allow family members to get in their necessary training. Don't want them going to the clink from beating up street punks in the street for experience."

"This dude as eccentric as Muramune?"

"Nope, just a hard ass. If he thinks you're slacking, he'll make your life hell. He has two settings, hell or living hell."