It all seemed so
wonderful. Free air fares, light
household duties (so the ad said, anyway) and a real welcome in a wealthy
Japanese household. The distinct
impression I drew from the ad was that I would be one of the family, so to
speak.
The reality was the absolute
opposite. Oh, the air fares were paid
and I was met at the airport by the family chauffeur, a handsome young man who
smiled encouragingly at me, but then, when I arrived at his employer’s home, a
very large house surrounded by a high wall, it all sunk in — with a vengeance.
My parents’ warnings came home to me
like a hammer to the head. “You don’t
know anything about the family, Elsa!” they had said. “At least ask the British consul if he is
known!” These and other like warnings
only made me more determined to go — and go I did.
After being driven around to the back
of the great house, I was met at the back door by the butler who grasped me by
my upper arm and almost frog-marched me to his master’s study. There, I was examined as if I was a horse the
man was contemplating buying. He looked
me up and down and then prowled around me, reaching out to touch my body
through my clothes: I had dressed in jeans and a thin blouse for the journey
since it was summer and his hands felt almost as if they were right on my body
so I felt most affronted at this so improper examination. I pulled back and protested.
“Please, sir. Don’t touch me like that,” I said hesitatingly. I was not at all sure of myself for I was
nothing but a lowly clerk in a bookstore and I knew I was not much to write
home about in the looks department. Oh
sure, I had a good body for I was very keen on athletics and trained
incessantly but I was no model, that was for sure. At that time I was just
twenty years old and while I had had a couple of boyfriends, neither of them
had been really serious affairs and I was actually still a virgin.
This much Mr Nagate knew, for I had
had to go to a doctor he nominated for a so-called medical examination. I say ‘so-called’ for it had been a really
full one and had been very intrusive, even down to the doctor establishing my
virginity before allowing me to dress once more. What I didn’t know was that secret cameras
had been snapping me in all my nakedness both standing before the doctor and
stretched out on his examination table and Nagate had full colour copies of
each one of the snaps.
At my protest, the businessman’s face
had screwed up in rage and he had given me two hard slaps to my face, one from
each side.
“Do not challenge my will, ever!” he
snarled and then, while I was recovering from the shock of such a violent
reaction to my protest, it got worse.
He reached out and actually felt my
breasts through the material of my blouse.
Again I protested but this time he didn’t hit me, instead glancing at
his butler and nodding. That worthy, who
had been hovering in the background, now stepped up beside me, and grabbing my
shirt front in both hands, ripped it open and then literally tore it off my
body.
I was shocked to the core at this
treatment and began to cry as the butler violently removed the torn remnants
from my upper body and then unhooked my bra, leaving me totally naked on my
upper body.
I was appalled and tried to cover my
breasts with my hands and arms but the butler moved up behind me and, grabbing
my two upper arms from behind, easily pulled them backwards and together, thus
thrusting my breasts out towards the man I now hated.
He grinned but it was not a pleasant
expression. It was more a sadistic leer
and my heart lurched as I thought of a year in his house. No. It
would be impossible! I knew I had to get
away. I said so but he just laughed as
his hands now came out to maul at my soft orbs while the butler held me still.
“Oh no, my little English virginal
athlete. You are here for a year and
here you will stay. But I tire of your
tears, stop crying or I will give you something to really cry for …”
I stared at him and he reached behind
him to the desk and picked up a slim cane of bamboo or some such wood. He slapped it into the palm of his other hand
a few times and then gave me a swipe across the crown of both my breasts.
I doubled over and howled in pain,
aware still of the butler’s hands holding my arms and of my employer’s highly
polished black shoes now right under my face, but then Yakamochi, the butler,
pulled me back upright again and I stared down at the now reddening mark across
my bosom. I didn’t say anything,
though. I was too shocked that he had
had me stripped and had then caned my breasts to say anything and I just stood
there, gripped tightly by Yakamochi while his employer feasted his eyes on my
flesh and fondled my breasts.
“Now you will show muscles. Flex arms and make muscles dance or I will
cane your breasts again.”
I stared at him in horror. I now realised he wanted my body! I also realised then, I think, that it would
not just be my upper body that he would want to see but even that understanding
was only a glimmering … As it turned
out, I was right but for now at least, it was my belly, chest, shoulders and
arms he was interested in.
I cringed. My chest still hurt — and how did it hurt —
from that first attack but I didn’t want to pose my now naked upper body for
him either. I compromised. I flexed the muscles of my arms, but kept my
upper arms up in front of my body as soon as the butler released them. Mr Nagate’s face darkened again and I
realised I had made a serious blunder.
It was then I understood you didn’t play with these people. He growled something in Japanese to his man
who again grabbed my upper arms and pulled them back — even harder this time —
and this time I copped two more vicious strokes across my breasts that had me
screaming in pain.
“Have you learned, English slut?” he
sneered.
“Yes, sir,” I replied hastily and as
soon as Yakamochi released my arms, I posed them as well as I knew how while
the businessman stepped back and watched me critically but this time, at least
with a modicum of approval in his face.
He allowed me to pose in this fashion
for some minutes and then he signalled me to stop. “And now you will remove jeans — most
unsuitable attire for English servant girl,” he added.
“May I go to my room, sir?” I asked,
not really understanding that he was actually ordering me to strip right off,
there in front of him.
This time his face really went black
with rage and he slapped me across the face again, twice — as hard as he
could. My ears rang and I shook my head
in a daze of horror, pain and now terror as well.
I didn’t hesitate any more, undoing
the buttons on my jeans and slipping them down over my slim hips and powerful
runner’s thighs. I have already said I
was not beautiful; I was well aware of that, but I also knew my body was that
of a well-trained athlete and as I stared at my employer’s eyes, I knew he
relished my body even if my face was nothing to look at.
I now had on only the very brief silk
panties I habitually wore, one of my few extravagances and I saw Mr Nagate
licking his lips as he stared at my all but naked body since my shoes had come
off with my jeans.
“Socks off, too,” he ordered, “and
place hands up behind head for proper inspection of body.”
Again I didn’t hesitate, my eyes on
the tip of the cane in his hand; a tip that was now constantly being slapped
into the palm of his other hand in a series of strokes that had me cringing,
for my breasts, well-marked with three tramlines right across their crown, were
throbbing horribly, as was my head from the series of slaps to each side of my
face.
Off came the socks and then I placed
my hands up as ordered while again he prowled around me, reaching out to stroke
my flank or my near-naked rear or to caress my stomach muscles or my thighs. I then realised he got off on an athletic
girl’s muscles and with a sickening thud, that he had chosen me not for any
ability I might have had or for my service to his household - but for my
muscular body!
He spent many minutes keeping me in
suspense. I suppose I knew that he would
not be content until I was stark naked but I wouldn’t allow myself to think
along those lines. I am not a prude. Heavens, athletes can’t be. We shower together and dress and undress
together in the changing rooms but not in these circumstances and I had never
been promiscuous with men. I hadn’t even
let my two boyfriends as much as feel my breasts and so this slow denuding of
my flesh before Mr Nagate and his butler was a terrible event for me.
Once more he began to feel and fondle
my flesh but then he stopped and I waited in a fever of suspense for the order
that I knew was only seconds away. Could
I do it? Could I actually strip myself
totally nude in front of these two horrible men?
“Take off panties, servant girl,” he
said eventually.
I cringed and my face blushed
heavily. I couldn’t see it of course but
I could feel the blood rushing in and knew I was more ashamed and humiliated
than I had ever been before in my life.
I hesitated and once more he reached back for the cane. I hesitated no longer. My breasts and face were still throbbing from
his former attacks and having weighed up the relative outcomes of stripping —
or not - I decided my modesty was a smaller price to pay.
I blushed even more though as I slowly
pushed the tiny garment down off my hips and then stepped out of them, bending
down to pick them up and put them with my jeans and socks and what remained of
my blouse.
He gloated as his black eyes roved up
and down my stark naked form and I began to cry again as I thought of my home,
family and friends — and what I now seemed to be facing.
That only brought more pain. He didn’t like the way we westerners showed
emotion all the time and it brought me another couple of stinging blows to my
face. I decided I had better buck up or
I wouldn’t have a head left on my shoulders.
I stood up straight, set my face and tried not to show any emotion as he
prowled around me once more, even reaching down to finger my mound and the gash
in its centre.
“Ugh,” he growled. Oh God, I thought, what now? “Ugly hair.
It will have to go. See to it,
Yakamochi.”
“Uh,” said that worthy in the short,
staccato manner of the Japanese.
“You will be working as menial,
English servant girl. For now, once
Yakamochi has finished modifying your hairy body, you may remain without
clothing. You westerners feel great
shame at nudity and will be salutary lesson in humility for you. Later, I will see if you are suitable sex
slut for my pleasure. Be warned. If you do not make every attempt to give me
pleasure, you will be very sorry indeed.”
I stared at him in more horror. ‘Sex slut?’
What was this? I was supposed to
be an au pair, not even a real servant but what he had said implied almost
slavery; no, real slavery for I clearly had no choice in the matter and he had
intimated if I didn’t behave myself with respect to his demands, sexual or
otherwise, I would pay for it with more pain.
But I didn’t say a word. By now, I was very aware that he wasn’t
interested in my protests and that when voiced, they only brought me more
pain. He turned on his heel and left
while the butler again grabbed me by my upper arm and frog-marched me out and
down some steps into the cellars of the huge house. And there I found out what he meant by
removing my hair.