tkl-pen
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THE PASSION OF MIKA SAKURA
A TOKYO ROMANCE
CHAPTER NINETEEN – A BIRTHDAY TREAT
“Your birthday isn’t over yet, ancient warrior,” said Mika, “I have a special treat for you tonight.”
“Really, little princess,” he asked, “what is it?”
“I’m going to let you tickle me tonight.”
“But I have tickled you before,” he said, “many times.”
“Not like this, ancient one,” she said, “I know you love to use that special bondage table built into that studio room to strap a girl down so that she will be completely helpless when you tickle her. Not only that, but you haven’t had the chance to use it at all since I came into your life, except for that time Sayako tricked me and had me strapped down on there. So, I have decided to let you strap me down on your tickling table.”
“Honma ni, really,” he said, “but are you sure you will be safe on there – I haven’t asked you to do that because of the great respect and love that I have for you.”
“I know you’re not going to hurt me, ancient warrior,” she said, “and I think I’ll hate to be tickled like that, but I love you and that will be my very special gift for your birthday. Let’s go now, before I change my mind.”
Yasuhiro Shimada couldn’t believe what Mika was allowing him to do. She was not only the girl he loved more than anything in the world but easily the most beautiful young woman he had ever seen.
She led him into his studio and pushed the switch to lower the tickling table from its recess in the wall. It was a scary looking device with black leather straps for every part of a woman’s body. She took off her clothes quickly and lay down on the big x-shaped form of the table’s surface.
“Quickly, ancient warrior,” she said, “fasten the straps before I run away!”
He gently fastened her wrist straps, making sure that her hands were beneath the special grips that she could hold onto, then the upper arms, the ankles, the thighs, the abdomen and finally the neck straps. Mika was now completely helpless and totally immobile. He stood back from the table and admired her for some time, naked and spread-eagled as she was. She was a treasure, beautiful beyond words, he thought.
“You know, Mika Sakura, I have loved you since the first moment I saw you,” he told her, “I was deeply affected by the very unique beauty that I saw in you, not only your physical beauty but the inner beauty that I saw in your eyes.”
As he spoke, he started to stroke the big feather across her stomach and along her
sides, working the entire front of her torso from below her breasts to the creases where it
met her thighs and her sides from below her armpits to her hips, carefully avoiding her
breasts, her armpits and her genitals. He was stroking her soft and flawless skin more to
intimidate her than to tickle her, demonstrating to her subconscious mind that she was
very, very vulnerable and he was in total control of her.
“Oh, my God,” she said, “that tihihihickles.”
“I knew then that I wanted you for myself. But I also realized that a beautiful
young college girl would not be likely to have a great deal of interest in a man of my age.
College girls always want to go with the boys they associate with in their schools. And
therefore I could only proceed with my desires by patiently waiting for you, and coming to you precisely at the right moment.”
Mika squirmed and fidgeted on the x-shaped table holding her as he drew
the stiff feather across the soft skin of her stomach and sides, slowly and purposefully, in
long, agonizing strokes, as he spoke. She tried everything she could think of to ease the
sensations - she stiffened her body, bit into her lip, squeezed her eyes and clenched her
fists. Nothing seemed to help. She felt her nipples start to swell and harden. That was
the sign he was looking for, waiting for. Now he moved his attention to her breasts.
“Shihihihit, Hihihiro,” she laughed, “I can’t take it, it tihihihickles so much.”
“In China, one of history’s most terrible tortures was the death of a thousand
cuts,” he told her, “which would begin with one hundred cuts of a very sharp knife across
each of a woman’s breasts, each cut a little longer and a little deeper than the one before,
building up a level of pain in which each cut would continue to contribute to the pain that
she would feel, starting at the top of each breast and making fifty cuts in the top half of a
breast, then another fifty cuts starting at the bottom, slowly working toward the nipple but
never touching it.”
He began to draw the edge of the large, stiff feather across the top half of her right
breast, mimicking the movements of the knife he was describing. The anguish and agony
building in Mika’s mind and body built with each successive stroke as she squirmed and
mewled and pleaded. Slowly, ever so slowly, he drew the feather across the top of her
right breast fifty times, then the top of the left breast, then the lower half of the right breast and finally the lower half of her left breast, coming close to her nipple but never actually touching it.
“It took many hours to complete the thousand cuts, using a razor-sharp knife, and
the pain was indescribable, sometimes lasting the entire night before the woman would die from shock and loss of blood.”
“Aaaaah, shit, ancient warrior, you’re arousing me – my breasts are on fire – aaah!”
Mika’s nipples became painfully engorged with blood, so big and hard she
thought they were going to burst, and she became sexually aroused, she felt herself
become very, very wet inside as she imagined each stroke of the knife with each stroke of
the feather. Even so, the strokes continued driving her further and further into both agony
and ecstasy. He then moved his attention back to her stomach and further onto her thighs. As he continued to speak, he stroked the feather across the top and over the outside of her thighs as well as her lower legs.
“When they would finish with her breasts,” he continued, “they would move down to her stomach like this, drawing the knife in long strokes, creating a criss-cross diamond pattern. They would create a similar pattern on her thighs and legs with each cut less than a quarter inch from the other.”
He continued to trace each stroke of the knife he described with the sharp, stiff
edge of the feather. Her sexual arousal continued to build and build. But he was careful
not to touch any part of her that would take her all the way to an orgasm. He moved to
her arms and ribs, stroking the soft inside of her upper arms and the curvature of her ribs,
careful to avoid her armpits.
“After the legs and thighs, their attention would then move to her arms,” he said,
“with the same diamond pattern a quarter of an inch apart on the soft inner portions of her
upper arms. The knife would then also be drawn along the curve of each of her ribs, both
on the rib itself and in the little space between them. Then the attention would move to
her feet.”
Mika was so close, oh so close, to sexual orgasm. But the man was an expert.
He really knew the female anatomy, they workings of the female body and its nervous
system. She was so close, and yet she could not climax. She was in agony. If only she
could touch her genitals, or if only he would touch her genitals.
He brought a wheeled stool from the side of the room and seated himself at
the foot end of the table. Mika flexed her toes over and over, sensing his presence so
close to her feet. Like the rest of her, Mika’s feet were very pretty - size 7 1/2 and in
perfect proportion - beautifully cleaned and manicured - no dead tissue or callouses of any kind - perfectly kissable. It was all he could do to restrain himself from kissing and licking her feet. And so he brought the feather up toward her left foot.
“In Hawaii and the other islands of the south seas,” he went on, “any of the young
women from other islands who came to be captured were turned over to the women of a
particular village. They would tie her down on the ground in the same position as you are now, bring out a collection of feathers kept especially for this occasion, and begin to tickle her feet.”
“Ahahaha. Nohoho, not my feeheeheet! Shihihit, nohohoho!”
As he was talking, he began to stroke the feather across the instep of her left foot,
drawing it from one side to the other slowly and carefully, between the fold of skin on the
soft instep as she flexed her toes as far as she could to prevent the sensation of the feather
on her skin. She felt another feather on the top of her foot drawn across in the same way
and brought her toes back up. This tightened the skin of her instep where the first feather
was again drawn across, leading her to flex her toes again.
“Please sto-o-o-p,” she laughed, squirming and flopping her foot about as best she
could, “I can’t stand to be tickled there.”
After some ten or fifteen minutes of tickling her left foot in this way, with Mika
squirming, laughing and pleading, he put the feather that he had used on the top of her
foot down, and turned to her right foot. This time he simply took hold of her foot with his
hand, between his thumb and fingers, preventing her from flexing her toes. Then he began to draw the feather across the instep of her right foot, over and over, as she howled with laughter, laughing so hard she couldn’t even plead for him to stop. Every few minutes, he would draw the feather across the groove below her toes and in between each of her toes,driving her to new heights of laughter. Some forty minutes passed while he worked on her right foot with his feather.
He moved his stool between her legs and waited for her laughter to subside and
her breathing to stabilize. He then began to stroke the soft inner surfaces of her thighs
with the feather, knowing she was on the verge of orgasm. Her nipples were stiff and
gorged with blood, her clitoris was erect and her vagina was sopping wet.
“Aah! Ooh!” she panted, clenching her fists, squeezing her eyes, “Why are you
doing this to me?”
“Because I love you,” he said, “and I want you to experience all that it is to be
female. Not like the schoolboys who simply want to get in, jump up and down a few
times, and then simply leave you behind as another conquest. The female body was
designed for pleasure, it was made to experience intense sexual pleasure, and I want to
take you to some of the heights of ecstasy that you never dreamed possible, pleasures that
few women today can ever even imagine, let alone experience.”
“Please let me go,” she pleaded, “I am so aroused right now I can’t stand it - it’s
going to kill me if I can’t touch myself and finish it.”
The stroking of the feather on the inside of Mika’s thighs was maddening. She
was so close to an orgasm and yet couldn’t reach it. Oh, the agony, and the ecstasy, she
thought, oh please let me come.
“I can’t release you just yet, Mika,” he said, “but I can kiss you, and lick you,
and bring you to the end. All you have to do is ask me.”
“Oh, God! Oh, please, please finish it!” she pleaded, “I can’t stand it. I’m so
close, please do it.”
He kissed her genitals, and brought her to the throes or orgasm by kissing and
licking her most sensitive parts, delicately licking her clitoris, gently forcing his tongue
into her vagina, savoring the juices of her arousal, the exceptional sweet taste and the
delicate aroma of her very essence. It wasn’t long before she arched her back and
stiffened her entire body, trembling with the throes of an intense sexual climax, within the bonds that held her. When she came back down from the heights of ecstasy, she lay on the table, panting, sweaty and exhausted.
“Come, sweet one,” he said, as he kissed her gently on the cheek, and unfastened the straps holding her, “it’s time to go to bed.”
He lifted her from the table in his powerful arms and carried her to the master bedroom, gently placing her on the bed. It was three o’clock in the morning.
A TOKYO ROMANCE
CHAPTER NINETEEN – A BIRTHDAY TREAT
“Your birthday isn’t over yet, ancient warrior,” said Mika, “I have a special treat for you tonight.”
“Really, little princess,” he asked, “what is it?”
“I’m going to let you tickle me tonight.”
“But I have tickled you before,” he said, “many times.”
“Not like this, ancient one,” she said, “I know you love to use that special bondage table built into that studio room to strap a girl down so that she will be completely helpless when you tickle her. Not only that, but you haven’t had the chance to use it at all since I came into your life, except for that time Sayako tricked me and had me strapped down on there. So, I have decided to let you strap me down on your tickling table.”
“Honma ni, really,” he said, “but are you sure you will be safe on there – I haven’t asked you to do that because of the great respect and love that I have for you.”
“I know you’re not going to hurt me, ancient warrior,” she said, “and I think I’ll hate to be tickled like that, but I love you and that will be my very special gift for your birthday. Let’s go now, before I change my mind.”
Yasuhiro Shimada couldn’t believe what Mika was allowing him to do. She was not only the girl he loved more than anything in the world but easily the most beautiful young woman he had ever seen.
She led him into his studio and pushed the switch to lower the tickling table from its recess in the wall. It was a scary looking device with black leather straps for every part of a woman’s body. She took off her clothes quickly and lay down on the big x-shaped form of the table’s surface.
“Quickly, ancient warrior,” she said, “fasten the straps before I run away!”
He gently fastened her wrist straps, making sure that her hands were beneath the special grips that she could hold onto, then the upper arms, the ankles, the thighs, the abdomen and finally the neck straps. Mika was now completely helpless and totally immobile. He stood back from the table and admired her for some time, naked and spread-eagled as she was. She was a treasure, beautiful beyond words, he thought.
“You know, Mika Sakura, I have loved you since the first moment I saw you,” he told her, “I was deeply affected by the very unique beauty that I saw in you, not only your physical beauty but the inner beauty that I saw in your eyes.”
As he spoke, he started to stroke the big feather across her stomach and along her
sides, working the entire front of her torso from below her breasts to the creases where it
met her thighs and her sides from below her armpits to her hips, carefully avoiding her
breasts, her armpits and her genitals. He was stroking her soft and flawless skin more to
intimidate her than to tickle her, demonstrating to her subconscious mind that she was
very, very vulnerable and he was in total control of her.
“Oh, my God,” she said, “that tihihihickles.”
“I knew then that I wanted you for myself. But I also realized that a beautiful
young college girl would not be likely to have a great deal of interest in a man of my age.
College girls always want to go with the boys they associate with in their schools. And
therefore I could only proceed with my desires by patiently waiting for you, and coming to you precisely at the right moment.”
Mika squirmed and fidgeted on the x-shaped table holding her as he drew
the stiff feather across the soft skin of her stomach and sides, slowly and purposefully, in
long, agonizing strokes, as he spoke. She tried everything she could think of to ease the
sensations - she stiffened her body, bit into her lip, squeezed her eyes and clenched her
fists. Nothing seemed to help. She felt her nipples start to swell and harden. That was
the sign he was looking for, waiting for. Now he moved his attention to her breasts.
“Shihihihit, Hihihiro,” she laughed, “I can’t take it, it tihihihickles so much.”
“In China, one of history’s most terrible tortures was the death of a thousand
cuts,” he told her, “which would begin with one hundred cuts of a very sharp knife across
each of a woman’s breasts, each cut a little longer and a little deeper than the one before,
building up a level of pain in which each cut would continue to contribute to the pain that
she would feel, starting at the top of each breast and making fifty cuts in the top half of a
breast, then another fifty cuts starting at the bottom, slowly working toward the nipple but
never touching it.”
He began to draw the edge of the large, stiff feather across the top half of her right
breast, mimicking the movements of the knife he was describing. The anguish and agony
building in Mika’s mind and body built with each successive stroke as she squirmed and
mewled and pleaded. Slowly, ever so slowly, he drew the feather across the top of her
right breast fifty times, then the top of the left breast, then the lower half of the right breast and finally the lower half of her left breast, coming close to her nipple but never actually touching it.
“It took many hours to complete the thousand cuts, using a razor-sharp knife, and
the pain was indescribable, sometimes lasting the entire night before the woman would die from shock and loss of blood.”
“Aaaaah, shit, ancient warrior, you’re arousing me – my breasts are on fire – aaah!”
Mika’s nipples became painfully engorged with blood, so big and hard she
thought they were going to burst, and she became sexually aroused, she felt herself
become very, very wet inside as she imagined each stroke of the knife with each stroke of
the feather. Even so, the strokes continued driving her further and further into both agony
and ecstasy. He then moved his attention back to her stomach and further onto her thighs. As he continued to speak, he stroked the feather across the top and over the outside of her thighs as well as her lower legs.
“When they would finish with her breasts,” he continued, “they would move down to her stomach like this, drawing the knife in long strokes, creating a criss-cross diamond pattern. They would create a similar pattern on her thighs and legs with each cut less than a quarter inch from the other.”
He continued to trace each stroke of the knife he described with the sharp, stiff
edge of the feather. Her sexual arousal continued to build and build. But he was careful
not to touch any part of her that would take her all the way to an orgasm. He moved to
her arms and ribs, stroking the soft inside of her upper arms and the curvature of her ribs,
careful to avoid her armpits.
“After the legs and thighs, their attention would then move to her arms,” he said,
“with the same diamond pattern a quarter of an inch apart on the soft inner portions of her
upper arms. The knife would then also be drawn along the curve of each of her ribs, both
on the rib itself and in the little space between them. Then the attention would move to
her feet.”
Mika was so close, oh so close, to sexual orgasm. But the man was an expert.
He really knew the female anatomy, they workings of the female body and its nervous
system. She was so close, and yet she could not climax. She was in agony. If only she
could touch her genitals, or if only he would touch her genitals.
He brought a wheeled stool from the side of the room and seated himself at
the foot end of the table. Mika flexed her toes over and over, sensing his presence so
close to her feet. Like the rest of her, Mika’s feet were very pretty - size 7 1/2 and in
perfect proportion - beautifully cleaned and manicured - no dead tissue or callouses of any kind - perfectly kissable. It was all he could do to restrain himself from kissing and licking her feet. And so he brought the feather up toward her left foot.
“In Hawaii and the other islands of the south seas,” he went on, “any of the young
women from other islands who came to be captured were turned over to the women of a
particular village. They would tie her down on the ground in the same position as you are now, bring out a collection of feathers kept especially for this occasion, and begin to tickle her feet.”
“Ahahaha. Nohoho, not my feeheeheet! Shihihit, nohohoho!”
As he was talking, he began to stroke the feather across the instep of her left foot,
drawing it from one side to the other slowly and carefully, between the fold of skin on the
soft instep as she flexed her toes as far as she could to prevent the sensation of the feather
on her skin. She felt another feather on the top of her foot drawn across in the same way
and brought her toes back up. This tightened the skin of her instep where the first feather
was again drawn across, leading her to flex her toes again.
“Please sto-o-o-p,” she laughed, squirming and flopping her foot about as best she
could, “I can’t stand to be tickled there.”
After some ten or fifteen minutes of tickling her left foot in this way, with Mika
squirming, laughing and pleading, he put the feather that he had used on the top of her
foot down, and turned to her right foot. This time he simply took hold of her foot with his
hand, between his thumb and fingers, preventing her from flexing her toes. Then he began to draw the feather across the instep of her right foot, over and over, as she howled with laughter, laughing so hard she couldn’t even plead for him to stop. Every few minutes, he would draw the feather across the groove below her toes and in between each of her toes,driving her to new heights of laughter. Some forty minutes passed while he worked on her right foot with his feather.
He moved his stool between her legs and waited for her laughter to subside and
her breathing to stabilize. He then began to stroke the soft inner surfaces of her thighs
with the feather, knowing she was on the verge of orgasm. Her nipples were stiff and
gorged with blood, her clitoris was erect and her vagina was sopping wet.
“Aah! Ooh!” she panted, clenching her fists, squeezing her eyes, “Why are you
doing this to me?”
“Because I love you,” he said, “and I want you to experience all that it is to be
female. Not like the schoolboys who simply want to get in, jump up and down a few
times, and then simply leave you behind as another conquest. The female body was
designed for pleasure, it was made to experience intense sexual pleasure, and I want to
take you to some of the heights of ecstasy that you never dreamed possible, pleasures that
few women today can ever even imagine, let alone experience.”
“Please let me go,” she pleaded, “I am so aroused right now I can’t stand it - it’s
going to kill me if I can’t touch myself and finish it.”
The stroking of the feather on the inside of Mika’s thighs was maddening. She
was so close to an orgasm and yet couldn’t reach it. Oh, the agony, and the ecstasy, she
thought, oh please let me come.
“I can’t release you just yet, Mika,” he said, “but I can kiss you, and lick you,
and bring you to the end. All you have to do is ask me.”
“Oh, God! Oh, please, please finish it!” she pleaded, “I can’t stand it. I’m so
close, please do it.”
He kissed her genitals, and brought her to the throes or orgasm by kissing and
licking her most sensitive parts, delicately licking her clitoris, gently forcing his tongue
into her vagina, savoring the juices of her arousal, the exceptional sweet taste and the
delicate aroma of her very essence. It wasn’t long before she arched her back and
stiffened her entire body, trembling with the throes of an intense sexual climax, within the bonds that held her. When she came back down from the heights of ecstasy, she lay on the table, panting, sweaty and exhausted.
“Come, sweet one,” he said, as he kissed her gently on the cheek, and unfastened the straps holding her, “it’s time to go to bed.”
He lifted her from the table in his powerful arms and carried her to the master bedroom, gently placing her on the bed. It was three o’clock in the morning.
